Lynne's AU Ending to The Marriage Stone
by lynned0101
Summary: One fan's take on how Josephine Darcy's abandoned but wonderful story, The Marriage Stone, might have proceeded. A powerful Harry, a surprised Severus, all the others, and a really bad Voldemort!
1. Ch 78 Coming Home

**Chapter 78 - Coming Home**

The persistent lack of landmarks or anything to orient himself in space and time kept Harry in a state of distress. He kept looking and listening, but now he did not even have the ravens for company. It would have been so easy to give up, to let the blackness just overtake him, and cease to be. But every time despair surged, or panic threatened to overwhelm him, Harry's Gryffindor nature pushed back. His giving up would mean that Voldemort would win. And that something terrible would happen to his friends and his family. Severus- there were so many things he still wanted to say to and do with his bondmate! He redoubled his efforts and pushed on.

With a great start, Harry realized that he was listening to voices. He'd approached other sounds, and some that sounded like voices before, but he'd become wary of a trap and retreated in great distress several times. But something about these voices was almost familiar. These bore some investigation! He listened intently. No, those were not his ravens. That made him wary again, because they were the only remnant of his old world that had been with him since he projected his mind and soul into the ley lines, into the earth. Harry slowly proceeded in the direction of the voices, trying not to attract attention to himself, but getting close enough to understand what was being said. Harry nearly backed away in a panic when he realized that the voices were speaking Parseltongue. This could be a trap – it could even be Voldemort himself looking to lure Harry to a place where he would have no resources or weapons or defenses with which to fight him. After some terrible fright, Harry was finally able to make out some of the words being spoken. He was sure he'd heard phrasing like this before – odd choices of words. There were references to nestlings, a king and shadows – these must be Black Wyrms!

On reflection, Harry was sure the Wyrms had arrived and departed from the battle at the Well of Despair ON the ground, not IN it, but he had clearly been too preoccupied with the capstone to have seen their approach. Now that he thought on it, they were gone from sight very quickly when they headed away after he spoke to them. They had been friendly enough once he'd spoken to them before, so Harry made a decision. He would speak to them now.

"Hello, dragons of the Winter Lands! We spoke by the Well of Despair, when the shadows were sent back and the well resealed. Can you hear me?"

In an instant, Harry was aware of two massive Black Wyrms by his side. He could see their shapes, although they appeared to be images of Black Wyrms and not the solid creatures he'd met in the Winter Lands. One said to the other "It's the young king – the one who drove away the shadows!" To Harry, he said "We have never encountered any from your nest in the Earth Tunnels before, and yet today, we have twice felt massive surges in the Tunnels. We never felt anything like this before, even our elders were shocked. The first was a crushing wave of darkness and it was followed by an equally strong wave of light. We came into the Tunnels to find out what happened."

Harry realized that he now knew how Voldemort blasted out whatever spell he'd used to put everyone to sleep. How interesting that it did not seem to impact every magical creature, if the Wyrms were not affected.

"Did you fall asleep when the first wave passed through?"

"No, we just felt a wave of very dark, black energy."

"A very evil nest of wizards is trying to kill most of us who live on the land. I do not know what that first wave was, but it was harming the ones in my nest, so I sent out the second wave to save the ones I could. I think I pushed too far into the earth, and now I cannot find my way back."

The Wyrms conferred softly between themselves, and then turned to address Harry. "We remember your service to us in driving the shadows into the well. We will help you find your way home."

For the first time since he pushed out his magic in a desperate attempt to save those targeted by Voldemort's spell, Harry felt hope.

X X X X X X X X X X

Severus had run to the fireplace in the rear of the infirmary and firecalled to the Headmaster's office. Albus Dumbledore was poring through the few Slytherin notebooks that Harry had translated from Parseltongue in an effort to find some solution to this terrible situation. His defeated posture suggested that the search for answers was not going well. He looked sharply at the face in the firebox.

"Albus – I have Harry's Heart Stone! It contains his magical signature, and might be all we need to help him find his way home!"

With a quick intake of breath, something like hope flickered across the old wizard's face. "Of course, my boy! What a wonderful idea!" He returned the books to a cabinet and hastily closed and warded it, and was stepping through the floo into the infirmary moments later. By then, Severus had collected Madam Pomfrey and the three of them joined Sirius Black at Harry's bedside.

Severus offered the Heart Stone for inspection. "This is the strongest Heart Stone I've ever seen produced by a student at Hogwarts." Very carefully, Madam Pomfrey unbuttoned the shirt of Harry's pajamas and opened it to bare his chest. "Severus, I recommend that you hold his Heart Stone against his heart. He might recognize your magical signature, too."

With a nervous look on his face, Severus palmed the Heart Stone and gently but firmly pressed it against Harry's breast. He closed his eyes as if in prayer. He was beseeching every deity and wizard for their help, but he was also directing the full force of his own magic through that hand and into Harry. Even without a matured bond, they had spent great amounts of time together, so maybe Harry would recognize him.

X X X X X X X X X X

The Black Wyrms proved to be interesting company. They were very pleased that Harry had regarded them as dragons. Apparently, they were aware that some wizards did not recognize them as kin of the flying dragons and it was a sore point amongst Wyrms. While they lived on the land, they knew earth magic intimately. Their own magic was actually drawn from the earth, a convenient arrangement given their anatomies. The Wyrms were not themselves capable of directing magic into the earth, and they were quite amazed that a little thing like Harry had generated that second pulse all by himself.

Most important to Harry, they knew all about ley lines. Their magic allowed them to travel the lines, transforming their massive bodies into pulses of magic that could slip into the network of energy fields across the earth, and move across vast distances in almost no time. It was a truly remarkable gift, Harry thought, largely wasted on the Wyrms, who seemed to be very content on their mountain in the Winter Lands. He took advantage of this opportunity to learn more about Wyrms and these ley lines.

"Very few from our nest like to enter the Earth Tunnels. We like the warmth of the sun on our skins, and are not comfortable in the shade. All Wyrms can do this on instinct, though. We are born knowing how to enter the Earth Tunnels."

Harry asked about those Earth Tunnels.

"The Earth Tunnels each go along a particular straight path, but they cross in many places. When you are in the Tunnels, you can go along one Tunnel, or move from it to others. You can get wherever you want to go through the Tunnels, if you are attuned to their patterns."

Harry noticed that he himself had no sensation of movement as he spoke to the Wyrms, and was surprised when they confirmed that the trio was indeed moving. Harry also could not imagine how anyone could determine where they were in terms of the surface from beneath the ground. "All the things on the surface of the earth have an impact on the Tunnels. We can see our mountain clearly from here, based on the pressure it places on the Tunnels. The signatures of some of the magical creatures on the land also leave imprints. Right now, we are looking for a place with concentrated magic, likely your nest. We think we see something up ahead, and when we are nearer, we think you will see it, too."

X X X X X X X X X

The group keeping vigil at Harry's bedside grew by one, when Hermione Granger arrived, searching for Professor Snape of all people. Having organized the rescue efforts and welcomed her parents to Hogwarts, she was now in the midst of reviewing her notes on the history of spells about which he had asked her, and she wanted to discuss some of the things she had recorded. She had several large books and rolls of parchment in her arms, which she quickly set aside so she could stand with the others. Taking in the scene of Professor Snape in an attitude of total concentration, with his palm over Harry's heart and seeing a golden chain pooling about Harry's chest, she guessed that some token – probably Harry's remarkable Heart Stone – was being used to try to help her friend find his way home. She was reminded of her conversation with Harry, when he admitted that he could feel other's magic. If he could, and he was roaming the earth looking for them, the presence of so many of the wizards and witches well known to and much loved by Harry could not help but guide him here. She decided to say as much to the group.

"Harry once told me that he can see and recognize the magics of others. I assume, Professor Snape, that you have something of Harry's there that will call to him with his own magical signature. But your touch will help. I'm sure he knows the magical signatures of every one of us in this room, and once he gets close, he'll know he's home. He'll know we are all here for him."

No one responded to Hermione's statement, but the tension seemed to ease a bit from all. Everyone wanted so desperately to believe that Harry was alright, and that he'd find his way home, and her vote of confidence in that belief calmed their nerves.

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry was growing anxious again that he could still not detect any of the magic towards which the Black Wyrms assured him they were traveling. To distract himself from focusing on what he could not see, he kept the conversation going. "I expect that my nest will be going to war against the nest that sent that dark wave of magic. It might have already begun – I don't know how long I've been here. Do dragons know war?"

"Yes, young king, we know war. Not for many seasons, far before any of us in the nest today were hatched, but we all know of it. Time in the Earth Tunnels is surprising – do not be surprised if you discover that not nearly as much earth time has passed than you think when you return from the Tunnels."

"Do you think the dragons would stand with my nest against the evil nest in a war? I would be deeply honored to have you as allies. Would you consider that?"

The dragons seemed pleased to have been asked, for they responded quickly that they would be honored to present the suggestion to the elders.

As Harry contemplated the prospect of an alliance with Black Wyrms, one of them directed his attention to a spot that might be impossibly far away, or right at hand, but Harry was stunned to realize that he could actually see it. "There, that is your nest. You are home now, young king. I can see a pulse of magic there that is yours, and I recognize the pulses of at least two others who were with you at the Winter Lands. Follow the pulse home, back to your surface form. We will never be far – if you have need of us, project a message into the Earth Tunnels, and we will hear you."

As he began to move toward the pulse, Harry thanked his guides. "I could never have found my way home without your help. Thank you for saving me! Please consider if you and the Wyrms would be willing to stand as my allies against the evil nest." With that, Harry pressed forward toward the magic, getting more and more excited as he drew nearer, recognizing not only his own magic, but Severus' pressed close with it. This was not a trap, it was home! As he drew nearer still, he was aware that he and Severus were surrounded by at least some of his family – he was sure that he felt Sirius, Professor Dumbledore and Hermione standing there, as well. Home!

X X X X X X X X X X

Madam Pomfrey had just checked the glove on Harry's hand to be sure that it continued to filter his blood properly. She'd noticed that Harry had seemed calmer over the last hour or so, at least his adrenaline levels had remained in an acceptable range. She was just thinking that this was a good sign when those levels suddenly spiked again, and she noticed a sharp up-tick in his levels of respiration and circulation. She was just about to ask the others to step aside while she addressed this new set of symptoms when she, and almost immediately, the others, realized that Harry's eyes were open, and most wonderfully, most amazingly, he was obviously looking out at them. His gaze had settled on Severus, whose eyes had opened at the same agitation that had caught Madam Pomfrey's attention. Severus took it in all at once – Harry was back! Harry himself was shocked by the depth of emotion so clearly visible on his bondmate's face, and especially in his eyes. Harry thought back on their plans to start their relationship at the beginning, and his own heart leapt with the hope that it had real promise, that Severus did have feelings for him.

For his part, Severus knew that he would never forget the look on Harry's face when he opened his eyes, and that he would be eternally pleased that the first smile from Harry upon his awakening was for him and not the mongrel godfather. For the first time, Severus felt he had come to stand in a place of some importance in Harry's life, and he noted with some amazement that it mattered to him as much as it did.

Harry was exhausted from his journey or whatever that was. He had no energy for talking yet, but he managed a weak smile for all those at his bedside before his eyes closed again for some rest.

Madam Pomfrey was furiously running her scans and spoke for them all: "Thank Merlin, the brain waves, the magical signatures, everything – he's back in there now! Oh, my goodness!"

Albus put a firm hand on Severus' shoulder and gave it a squeeze as the younger man slumped over Harry, his head now resting on the hand that still held the Heart Stone over Harry's chest. "Well done, Severus, well done indeed! You helped Harry find his way home. Thank you." Moving over to a slightly shell-shocked Madam Pomfrey, Albus repeated his thanks for her diligent care. Stopping at an uncommonly subdued Sirius Black, Albus just patted his arm and suggested that he share the wonderful news with Remus Lupin.

Finally, Albus took in Hermione Granger. Her relief at her friend's recovery was clear on her face, but it was also clear that she realized there was still much to be done. She'd come here with books and parchments – the battle was only just starting, and she was preparing for what was to come.

"Miss Granger, emotions have run high here, and I think some will need a bit of time to rest and collect themselves. I'd like to see what you have there, and have you take a look at some of the books Harry translated for us. We need to plan what we will do next. A missed night of sleep for you or me is something we can deal with, I'm sure we can get some Pepper-Up potion from Madam Pomfrey. But time is of the essence, as you seem to have realized."

An exciting new challenge was just what Hermione needed. She reached out to touch Harry's face, and then squeezed Professor Snape's shoulder with a soft word of thanks, and then she was ready to take the battle forward.


	2. Ch 79 Settling In

**Chapter 79 - Settling In **

Petunia Dursley sat on a bed by the windows in the recently-created dormitory for guests just off the Hufflepuff common room, looking in turns miserable, scared and confused. Once the distress of seeing her Dudley and Vernon turned over to those . . . . freaks in what passed for a hospital in this place had worn off, and the fright she'd gotten from her encounter with those two criminals who collected them from Privet Drive had passed, she did not know what to think. Oil paintings moved and spoke! A ghost – a GHOST – had welcomed her to this place! She could not begin to fathom what sort of freaks lived here!

She was lost in thought, worrying the corner of the duvet on her bed, when a sweet-looking girl with long blond hair in a braid down her back gently touched her shoulder. "Ma'am, would you please come into the common room now? Professor Sprout, our Head of House, wants to welcome our guests and get you oriented to Hogwarts. I'm sure you'll feel better once you get your bearings." Numbly and silently, Petunia followed her through a short stone corridor into a surprisingly cheery, if very out-of-date, room with lots of comfortable couches and chairs, a scattering of small tables, and an enormous fire place the dominated an entire wall. It was a nice big room, although Petunia quickly felt the flutter of her claustrophobia and moved immediately to a place near one of the big windows, to try to get a look at the sky.

Petunia finally stole a look at the other people in the room. A few looked strange – she assumed they were freaks. The little woman who seemed to be directing things seemed to be a no-nonsense sort, if you looked past the dirt-encrusted clothes and that ridiculous hat. A goodly number looked like ordinary people. She wondered again what was going on that normal people like her and those others found themselves in a place like this.

To Petunia's dismay, a very old woman wearing a totally out-of-date dress and a hat that Petunia thought had never been in style at any time in human history, joined her in her window seat. She scooted away from this embarrassingly absurd creature, hoping the old woman would go away. To her shock, the old woman gave HER an appraising look, followed by a disappointed shrug, and then looked away.

The little dirt-encrusted woman stood to address the group. Petunia sniffed in distaste. She introduced herself as a professor at this school – well, that certainly said something for the quality of the institution! "Many of you are only now discovering that you are actually squibs, rather than muggles – you actually do have a small bit of magic in you. That can be a bit of a shock, but you'll get over it. We welcome you to our new guest dormitories here in Hufflepuff House. We are located on the ground floor, so it's easier for you to reach, and I think you'll find that Hufflepuffs are the most welcoming of witches and wizards. These are most extraordinary and dangerous times!" Well, of course they are! Why didn't the police respond when she rang them? And then those two awful – whatever those freaks were – they assaulted her and took her here! Dangerous times, indeed! "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named sent a spell into the world, throughout the world, that put all humans to sleep. Harry Potter sent a pulse of magic out into the world that enabled him to wake everyone with magic." Petunia could not contain a "harrumph" at the mention of her worthless nephew's name, earning her nasty looks from several who overheard her.

"We are bringing in at least those muggles who are related to students and staff here at Hogwarts. We don't know yet how to wake the sleeping muggles, but at least the ones we bring here can be sustained while they sleep off the spell. We are also inviting members of the magical community who desire the protections of the wards of Hogwarts to join us, so it will be getting crowded. Some will be living in the Houses in which they lived here as students, others will stay in tents erected in the courtyards." Petunia rolled her eyes at that – tents! What sort of people would find accommodations like that acceptable? "We will need everyone to pitch in and help. If you have medical training, we need you in the Infirmaries – we've expanded the one we have, and have added several other rooms to serve in this manner. If you have skills in potion-making, we need help in the laboratories, too. Finally, I need help in the greenhouses. We grow a vast array of magical plants and herbs here, many used in potions and some in the kitchens, and I've released most of the students and magical beings who usually help me there to other duties. Think on what you'd like to do over breakfast, and we'll get you organized after that. Breakfast, and all our meals, is in the Great Hall, we'll go there now and get you pointed to the appropriate tables."

Petunia fell in with what looked like a group of normal-looking people as they walked along enormous corridors with more of those moving oil paintings, into a positively vast room. Was it open to the sky – it looked like sky and clouds up there! There were half a dozen fireplaces the size of small rooms, and huge leaded glass windows up above, several open to let in breezes. Her group was directed to one of several long tables that stretched the entire length of the room. She somewhat awkwardly climbed over the bench seats, which also stretched the length of the room, and wondered how on earth the wait staff was going to handle distributing food in such a strangely set-up space. There weren't even plates on the tables! She did a double-take when, out of nowhere, food was on the table in front of her, as well as some surprisingly high-quality china and silverware. All those around her immediately began serving themselves from platters piled high with beautifully prepared, heavenly-smelling baked goods, egg dishes, fruits and cereals, and began commenting on how delicious it all was. Hoping she'd be able to taste this food, Petunia served herself, and was bitterly disappointed to realize that nothing was different – this food was as tasteless as everything else had been since the fall.

X X X X X X X X X X

Hermione was deep in thought up in the Headmaster's Office as she pored over the volumes of Salazar Slytherin's notebooks that Harry had already translated. She'd already briefed the older wizard on the results of her research from last year, and shared what she had on all the ancient spells. They'd shared a round of Pepper-Up potion, followed by some breakfast brought by the house elves, and Professor Dumbledore had told her what little he had learned about the situation from Madam Bones when she visited. Hermione knew they'd have to repeat most of this when Professor Snape and Harry joined them, but she needed the background to enable her to use this time most profitably. In truth, she was absolutely delighted with the chance to be part of the effort to counter Voldemort's attack. Everything was always on Harry, and it pleased her to know that she could do some work to ease his burden. The honor she felt was tempered by fear of what this situation mean not just to wizards but to muggles everywhere. So much was at stake!

X X X X X X X X X X

After a further sleep of several hours, Harry's eyes finally flicked open, to the sight of Severus slumped over him, still holding the Heart Stone over his heart, his head resting next to that. Harry smiled warmly at the sight, and freed one hand from his blanket to gently smooth away some of the black strands falling across his bondmate's face. At his touch, Severus' eyes opened. For once, neither stopped or tried to deny their potentially embarrassing behavior. Harry took one final opportunity to stroke Severus' black hair, and Severus continued to study the brilliant green eyes that were finally, joyously, studying him back.

With a thready voice, Harry finally broke the moment. "How bad is it?"

Severus sat up and leaned back. "Voldemort sent out a sleeping spell, one of the very few spells to which muggles are susceptible. It sent everyone – magical and muggle – straight to sleep. Amelia Bones was here earlier, and reported that this was world-wide, not just at Hogwarts or here in England. Your spell seems to have awoken everyone with magic, again world-wide. The problem for the muggles is that this spell put them to sleep but not in stasis, and we estimate that they will all remain asleep under this spell for three months or so. By then, of course, they all will have perished from dehydration. Your Miss Granger and the Headmaster are in his office right now, I suspect reviewing her research into those ancient spells and your translations of Slytherin's notebooks. We have also begun bringing the muggle relatives of Hogwarts students to the school, to be able to provide them with medical support as we work out a broader approach to helping them. Remus Lupin and your friend Mr. Weasley were leading those efforts, which explains their absence when you awoke."

Harry struggled to sit up and was unpersuaded by Severus' efforts to have him stay in bed. The two were still tired and not fully recovered, but they realized that time was of the essence. Madam Pomfrey had come running when her tracking charm indicated that Harry was attempting to get out of bed. She was originally planning on holding him in the Infirmary until tomorrow at least, but it was clear to her in an instant that neither Harry nor Severus would hear of that. She spelled Harry into his clothes and led the two to the floo in her office, and tucked two large bottles of Pepper-up Potion into Severus' hands. Goodness knows, they'd need them.

The Headmaster directed a chastising glare at Severus when he and Harry appeared out of the floo in his office, but Severus simply glared back. To their mutual surprise, it was Harry who defended their appearance: "There is no time to waste, Professor. We can sleep later." With a sigh, Albus had to acknowledge the truth of that. "Well, my boys, it is nearly lunchtime. Let me ask the house elves to bring us some sandwiches, tea and chocolates, and Miss Granger and I can bring you up to date with what we have while we break for lunch."

Hermione consulted her ever-present notes, as she ran through the chronology, starting with dinner last evening, the information from the Ministry, and as she was about to discuss the rescue missions that began in the middle of the night, Remus Lupin stepped through the floo with an armload of books for her. He greeted Harry warmly and joined the group for the rest of the debrief and a few of the sandwiches. Just as Hermione had predicted, Harry was indeed pleased to learn that everyone was pitching in and bringing muggles, and a surprising number of squibs who thought they were muggles, to safety. Hermione was quick to assure Harry, as Severus had already done, that Ron had been to see him in the Infirmary last night, but was now involved in rescue missions.

"What about squibs? Who turned up?"

Hermione smiled as she reported on her parents' arrival in the company of Augusta Longbottom. Remus looked guiltily at his hands in his lap, and he took up the narrative. "As Hermione said, we were bringing in all the muggle parents and relatives of Hogwarts students." All eyes went to Harry to see his reaction to what they knew would follow next. "Based on what you said about giving people opportunities and second chances even when it seemed that they really did not deserve them, Sirius and I went to Privet Drive to collect the Dursleys." Severus watched closely as a host of emotions flashed across Harry's face, but they all seemed positive. It seemed Miss Granger did know her friend's heart. "To our surprise, we found your uncle and cousin sleeping soundly, being tended to by your aunt. It turns out that Petunia is a squib, and you woke her. The men are in the Infirmary, and Petunia is among the squibs and guests we've settled into some new dormitories in Hufflepuff House."

Albus chimed in at that point. "That did seem the safest place to put them, especially the ones who are new to magic."

Harry was looking at Remus, and felt that there was some part of this story still unspoken. As if in answer to Harry's questioning look, Remus continued his story. "Petunia wasn't very nice, and she accused Sirius, me, all of us, of creating this problem. She said some horrible, evil things. At one in particular, well, I lost my temper and I slapped her in the face." To Remus' immense relief, there was no censure or disappointment in Harry's face, but a look of amusement. Petunia had managed to provoke the most even-tempered person he knew! "You and Sirius did the right thing, Remus, both in going to collect them, and in showing Aunt Petunia what you thought of her comments. Thank you."

Albus added "We have a few other surprising faces among those now residing in Hogwarts. You know that we have always got some Aurors connected to the muggle government, and in addition to helping us get the Prime Minister and a few other heads of the government into St. Mungo's for treatment, one was able to take a panicked call from Buckingham Palace. It turns out that the two princes are squibs! They gave us access to the palace, and we were able to get the Royals to St. Mungo's, too. We brought the princes here – nice young men."

Harry expressed his thanks for all the others had done, and then reported as much detail as he could recall of his efforts to awaken everyone, sharing as much as he could remember of the ravens' commentary and advice. He told of his panic at discovering he did not know how to get back, and of his encounter with the Black Wyrms and their help in leading him back home. He went over in great detail all that they had told him of their perception of the events of last night, and about earth magic and ley lines. Hermione did what she did best – made careful notes for later review and research. By tomorrow, Harry was sure she'd know more about Black Wyrms than any wizard alive.

Severus had been very quiet to this point, listening and observing. However, he did have something to contribute. "Voldemort definitely sucked the magical power he needed out of his Death Eaters. It appears that the silver bands on my Dark Mark blocked most of it, but even with them, the drain on my magic was enormous. There were two students who had recently taken the Mark who were rendered comatose by the drain. Even your counter-spell did not awaken them; they are still in the Infirmary. In thinking on this, I believe that I felt the pull on my power not 10 seconds before I fell asleep, and I think, Harry that you woke me not more than 20 or 30 seconds later."

Hermione could not help but notice how tired Harry and Professor Snape looked, even after having had something to eat. "Why don't you two get some sleep? We were already doing further research on the spells we found last year, and we obviously need to look into earth magic and ley lines now, and I want to do some research on Black Wyrms, and we can ask Madam Pomfrey explore the impact of the drain on the power of . . . "

Holding back a smile (really, if you left her to it, Hermione's list of potential research topics would never end), Harry interrupted her. "No, Hermione. Not yet. I only translated three of Slytherin's notebooks, and what if the best lead or idea is in one of the others? No one else can work with them. Severus, can you help me? I'm sure I can do it faster, if I can just find a way to make myself stick to English."

"Actually, let's discuss the books first, because we don't have time for you to translate everything. If we can identify a few sections that seem most promising for our immediate needs, I'll charm a quill to transcribe your words – you'll just read and speak the text in English, and the quill will write the words on parchment for you. We do need to move with haste. By my calculation, the muggles have been asleep for 18 hours already. A healthy muggle can live two or three days without water; it's getting close to the point where the less healthy will be in distress, and even the healthy ones will experience dehydration. If possible, I think we need to come up with something in the next 12 to 24 hours.

Albus nodded with approval at Severus' suggestion that they all needed to focus.

"I think we all agree that ley lines will be key to delivering whatever solution we find. This is a world-wide crisis, and we need a solution that can be delivered world-wide, and the ley lines seem the most efficient means to do that. And that means that our solution must be a spell or a charm, something that can be sent through ley lines. We cannot use something physical, like a potion."

Harry nodded at that. "And what sort of solution do you think we should pursue? Waking them, or preserving them as they sleep?"

Severus had been thinking about that himself, ever since Madam Bones had informed them of the Ministry's research. "The Ministry had determined that Voldemort used a modified sleeping spell for which the only counterspell requires a pulse of magic into the magical core of the person under the spell. Muggles don't have magical cores, and they are far more numerous than magical folk. Unless we can quickly find an alternative means of waking them that does not involve a magical pulse, I think we need to focus on preservation. Headmaster, do you think you could persuade the Ministry to share its research on the spell? If Madam Bones understands that we are exploring possible solutions in ancient magics no longer known to or used by wizards today. . ."

"Excellent suggestion. With Fudge under arrest, the level of paranoia in the Ministry is much lower these days. I think Amelia will cooperate. I will floo there immediately to speak to her."

With that, lunch was over, and the work began in earnest. Albus flooed to the Ministry. Remus gave Hermione the books he'd brought from the Black libraries in Grimauld Place that he thought would be helpful to her research, and he took his leave to go back to Ron, Sirius and all the others still working on rescue missions. Hermione transfigured a spare table into a larger desk, equipped with parchment and quills, for Harry and Severus to use, and provided them with the Slytherin notebooks, before she settled back at the desk she'd been using earlier.

X X X X X X X X X X

Out in the greenhouses, Petunia looked totally horrified by the plants, some of which sensed her fear and were trying to attack her. She'd chosen work in the greenhouses over the other options, because, first, it was in a place that would be open to the sky, and second, she assumed that gardens in a castle would be similar to those described at country estates, about which she'd read in her glossy magazines. Her own (or rather, Harry's) work in the garden was restricted to tending decorative flower beds just like all the other families in the neighborhood had; anything more would either suggest that she herself was eccentric in some way, or even worse, if she had a vegetable garden, that the family lacked funds to buy fresh food at the grocer. She volunteered for this assignment expecting to be surrounded by beautiful flowers and fragrant herbs, with maybe a few rows of vegetables for the table. Instead, she'd been issued heavy gardening gloves made of some strange-looking leather, and a big leather apron, and then been scared half out of her wits with warnings about not getting to close to this plant, or standing where that plant could reach you. She was tasked with gathering mature leaves off of a row of plants that seemed intent on defending their foliage at all costs. These things moved! And spat! And did all manner of things that fruits and vegetables are just not allowed to do in the normal world.

She had hoped to be able to strike up a conversation with some of the other normal-looking people in the greenhouses, but the greenhouses were huge and no one was working near her. She felt horribly alone, and totally miserable. And it was all her nasty nephew's fault.

X X X X X X X X X X

Ron Weasley and Remus Lupin had spent the night, morning and most of the afternoon organizing the teams that were going out into the world to find the families of muggleborn students. They participated in a few rescue missions themselves, but tried as much as possible to get upper year house members to help take care of the more junior students in their houses, with one of the adults along to provide assistance in transporting sleeping relatives. There were some happy stories that ended with parents and siblings being transported to the Infirmary for care, or in joyous reunions like Hermione's with family who turned out to be squibs rather than muggles. There were a few rescues of squibs who had been awoken and were found wandering around in shock at the state of their families and neighbors. Sadly, there were also some stories of family members who fell asleep at the wrong time, or in the wrong place, and who did not survive the experience.

Ron had gone with Draco (eyebrows were sky-high over that development, but as Ron pointed out, family is family) to see if his father was alright. Draco had become nearly hysterical after he'd heard about the sorry state of the two students who had been all but drained of their magic when Voldemort cast his spell. Actually, Lucius Malfoy was in a sorry state too. His wife was away visiting friends, so he had been alone. He'd resisted the drain as soon as he felt it, but it overtook him, and left him too weak to move at all after he awoke from Harry's spell. The boys arrived at daybreak, and Lucius had not yet been able to move. They were able to get him back to Hogwarts, and put him in a room in Slytherin House, after Madam Pomfrey provided some potions and prescribed a day or two of further bed rest for his magic to regenerate.

It turned out that Lucius was a lucky one. When news of his situation became known in Slytherin House, a number of Slytherins began to worry about their parents, and many flooed or apparated home to be sure all was well. While quite a few were in the same situation as Lucius, at least three parents who had the Dark Mark had died from the drain on their magic, and several were in such depleted states that Madam Pomfrey was not optimistic of their regaining their ability to function as wizards. An awful sense of betrayal was added into the crushing grief that was felt by many of the students in the dungeons as a result.


	3. Ch 80 Decisions and Progress

**Chapter 80 – Decisions and Progress**

The group toiling in the Headmaster's office reconvened shortly before the dinner hour. It had taken Harry and Severus just about an hour to identify several passages in the untranslated Slytherin notebooks that seemed to bear most potential and merited immediate translation. Harry had discovered that by speaking the translation aloud to the quills that Severus had charmed, he did not lapse into Parseltongue thinking he was speaking English. That freed Severus to join Albus and Hermione.

Albus looked to Severus to summarize their work for Harry.

"We looked at the spell that Voldemort used. All indications are that it was originally a spell that put someone to sleep and preserved them for 100 years. Thus, it once had both a sleeping and stasis component. One alteration Voldemort made was to strip out the stasis component. In further modifying its breadth and method of casting, the Ministry estimates that the 100 years became two to three months, and their calculations on that point look reasonable.

"We don't see waking muggles as a viable action. The old sleeping spells were notoriously difficult to break, absent the very specific counterspell or event intended to break them. "

Albus had been the lead theorist on the preservation issue, so he summarized that portion of the work.

"Harry, the ways we have today to put someone today into a state of preservation or stasis are all potion-based. The most is extreme is the Draught of the Living Death – there are others in that vein that are not as powerful. A potion is not an option here because most don't work absent some magic, we certainly do not have enough of them for all the muggles in the world nor a way to deliver them, and it is extremely dangerous to attempt to spell a stasis potion into someone who has been rendered unconscious already by some other spell or potion.

"We did find something in that chapter that you translated from the seventh notebook that helped us formulate some ideas for a spell. There was a reference to a healing spell that was already ancient when Salazar wrote of it. Before there were healing potions or wizards trained with healing skills, the best most could hope for in many cases of illness and sickness was that a wizard's or muggle's body would have enough time to heal itself. This healing spell could be placed on someone already in a coma or otherwise unconscious, or it could be administered to someone in conjunction with a sleeping draught or spell, and it basically held their physical condition steady while the person was not conscious. If the condition that prompted its use was something that could be resolved with time, when the person recovered and was ready to wake, the spell fell away. If the underlying condition was not one that the body could resolve with time, typically the person would die, but at least in their sleep and not in pain.

"It's a very basic spell and we expect it will work. Normally, we'd want to run tests before employing it, but we do not have the time for that. I will ask Madam Pomfrey to check that it works as we believe it does, and assuming that to be the case, it is the spell that we believe is our best option right now."

Harry and the others turned hopeful eyes to Hermione – he assumed that the casting of this spell over the entire world would be a challenge. However, if the answer, or even the hint of an answer, was in a book somewhere, odds were that she had already read it or could find it. She did not disappoint.

"Harry, the spell you found in the seventh book should be a viable stasis spell, but we cannot have you do again what you did to waken the magical people. There are just too many muggles, over too much space. The attempt would fall short and almost assuredly kill you. Professor Snape remembered the spell you spoke in the Winter Lands to seal the capstone to the ground over the Well of Despair: Terra Fas Sigillum Protego. You commanded the earth to hold the capstone fast, and it did. I consulted the book in which we'd found that old spell, and there were others in that general "commanding the earth" category, including one that delivered a royal command to spread something throughout the earth. We can combine the stasis spell with that one – it's called Regius Procuratio Per Obis Terrarum – and send the spell throughout the world."

"Even engaging with the ley lines and calling on the earth like that, I'm not so sure that one wizard's power will do it, Hermione." Harry looked worried.

"Well, it won't be just you. You have to cast the command spell, of course, because you're the only one who can cast the royal stuff, but remember the spell that Professor Dumbledore used to join us all in casting the shield for you on the Quidditch pitch? He is very confident that it will work here, to join the magic of others casting the stasis spell with yours. We can ask as many witches and wizards as are in the castle now to join us, and with the earth's cooperation, and all our power joined with yours, we should be able to do this."

Harry shook his head in awe as he looked around the table at these three wonderful people. "This is amazing. That you came up with such amazing ideas, in so little time and under such pressure – I don't know what to say. Thank you."

Severus smiled at Harry, but shook his head. "Don't thank us yet. This is all theory. No one ever made all this work before. You two go along to the Great Hall for dinner – you need a break and a fortifying meal to replenish yourselves. The Headmaster and I need that as well, but we'll stop in at the Infirmary first to ask Madam Pomfrey to assess the healing spell, and then we'll join you at dinner."

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry was nearly slack-jawed as he and Hermione entered the Great Hall, where dinner had just appeared on the tables. The room, always large, was now at least triple in size, filled with a number of new trestle tables all crowded with people. Harry looked for Sirius and Remus at the extended head table, and was glad to see them, seated together, speaking quietly. He knew they'd been very busy all day going out with students to find families, and they looked spent.

Harry's fervent hope that he'd be able to get to his seat with minimal attention was not fulfilled, as heads turned and whispers began immediately as he and Hermione walked over to their friends. Ron and Neville made space for them and they quickly took the seats and ignored the fuss.

"Ron, thank you for all your work on the rescues. What did we miss?"

Ron, Neville and Seamus all had stories to tell, both of their own excursions outside the castle or those reported to them by others who had gone out. Some were happy and some were tragic. Quite a few "muggleborns" had found that they were actually the children of squibs, who did not know of their magic. Muggle family members had been found and brought to the castle and delivered into Madam Pomfrey's care; there were already nearly 2000 muggles sleeping in the castle! Almost 500 squibs had been found and brought to Hogwarts among family, friends and even neighbors who were wandering about trying to make sense of the horrific devastation and wondering why no one else was awake. On the tragic side were the stories of family members who perished in accidents and fires as they slept. There had been mercifully only a few of those, but each loss was deeply felt by all.

Ron concluded their stories with "And then there were the Death Eathers!"

Harry hadn't given that any thought. He knew Severus was tired, but aside from that, he seemed fine. Of course, his Dark Mark had been warded by the Headmaster. "What about them?"

Ron told him about the two seventh-year Slytherins still in the Infirmary, dangerously depleted of their magic. He also told of Draco's distress at finding his father in such bad shape, although Lucius was expect to make a full recovery. Then there were the stories of the children of other Death Eaters. The lucky ones found their parents in the same situation as Lucius, but others were in alarmingly bad condition. At this point, only bare-bones information had been passed along by Draco, but Ron believed that at least two Death Eater parents had died from the drain, and some were unlikely to recover their magic to the level of being wizards any longer. They were going to be squibs, or even muggles now. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named sucked them dry of their magic, with no regard to what happened to them."

Harry realized it would be difficult to get a solid read on the Death Eater situation since so few publicly admitted to having taken the Dark Mark, but maybe Severus could feed some names to someone at the Ministry and have someone check? It might be helpful to get the word out about what had been done to them to disillusion Voldemort's followers and get some to desert him. He'd speak to Dumbledore and Severus later.

To his friends, Harry repeated his thanks for all their efforts. Hermione started answering questions about the work they'd been doing all afternoon, and Harry directed his attention to her, hoping the others would look to her and allow him to eat his dinner. He was famished!

X X X X X X X X X X

Several long tables over, at a different end of the room, Petunia was sitting with a group of the most normal-looking people she had been able to find. She'd gotten back from the greenhouses, dirty and bruised, but otherwise unharmed from her encounters with those horrible plants, and gone to the dormitory to change and freshen up for dinner. She was a bit shocked that her bed had been made up with fresh linens, clean towels were available to her, and even the clothes she had worn yesterday were now laundered and in the dresser by her bed, along with all the other things she'd brought from home, and her suitcase was gone. Well, while she might have issues with the staff and caliber of people in this place, at least whoever provided the service knew how to do that properly. She never actually saw a servant or staff, but had to admit that things were taken care of thoroughly and quickly, and she had to assume (again, from her glossy magazines) that the goal of those in service had to be to accomplish all that without intruding on the guests. Cleaned up and in fresh clothes, Petunia felt slightly more comfortable now.

The people around her at dinner all had different assignments during the day. One older woman had spent the day in a "potions laboratory" and was going on and on about chopping things up and boiling things in cauldrons. How hideous! And these people used this stuff as medicine? The older woman actually looked at Petunia with a strange look in response to her comment. "Actually, Hogwarts is renowned for the potions brewed here. The Potions Master, Severus Snape, is famous across the wizarding world and his potions are highly sought after. We're supplying potions not just to our own Infirmary, but to St. Mungo's and to the Ministry, which I heard is sharing them with foreign institutions. To say nothing of the fact, Snape is bonded to Harry Potter!"

That last comment brought a number of murmurs of "Lucky man!" and expressions of jealousy, and Petunia nearly choked on a mouthful of tasteless food. "What? Bonded? What on earth are you talking about? And who in their right mind would want anything to do with that miserable wretch Potter?" People nearby were looking at HER as if there was something amiss! "The boy's a freak, always has been."

People were visibly trying to move to put as much distance between themselves and this harpy. The older woman responded "He's a remarkable and powerful young man, and recently acknowledged as the king of the wizarding world. He's the one who woke us all from the spell cast by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. If he hadn't done that, we'd all be sleeping, and many of us would not be waking up. You truly have your nerve speaking ill of him."

Petunia glumly pushed the tasteless food around her plate. She had really believed that normal-looking people would understand her perception of that awful boy with whom she was saddled years ago, and sympathize with her. She never expected that normal people would take the freak's part, against a refined woman such as herself!

X X X X X X X X X X

As the meal ended, Harry saw Madam Pomfrey approach the head table, and briefly interrupt the Headmaster and Severus for a word. They conferred briefly, and then Severus left with her. Harry's heart leapt with hope, that they could do the casting, and soon.

A moment later, the Headmaster stood to address the crowded Hall.

"I welcome you all to our first dinner as an extended magical family! We have many members of our students' families joining us now, as well as many others who did not realize that they had magic until today, and we are all pleased to extend the hospitality of Hogwarts Castle to you. Thanks to all who participated in the efforts to bring us all together here today!

"I have a counterpoint to the dark event we have all experienced. With thanks to Professor Snape, Miss Hermione Granger and, of course, Harry Potter, we have formulated a plan to help the muggles, beyond those we've been able to bring here to Hogwarts! This is something that has never been done before, but we are optimistic that it will work, and we are confident that the action we will take will not harm any of us. It will be a group casting effort. Mr. Potter will cast a royal command to the earth to spread an ancient healing, or stasis, spell across the world, and we will all join him in casting that stasis spell, too. Several of us will cast the "Iunctum" spell to join all your magics with Mr. Potter's into one large burst.

"We invite all adult witches and wizards, including our guests and all students in the fifth year and higher at Hogwarts, to participate. We will gather out by the greenhouses, and proceed as a group out past the castle wards, under the protection of the warriors of the Winter Lands. Participation is completely voluntary. If you have concerns or reservations, feel no pressure to join in, and we understand. However, if you wish to participate, please report to the greenhouses in half an hour. Thank you."

The head table began to empty immediately, as all the staff and others invited to sit at that table headed out to prepare. The rest of the room erupted in conversation as everyone seemed to want to comment on the plan at once. Those at the Gryffindor table were very excited at the chance to participate in something untried but likely to do so much good. The Ravenclaws were discussing the history, development and theory of all the spells mentioned. The Hufflepuffs were very excited to participate in a group casting. The Slytherins wanted to know how Hermione Granger got herself involved here.

Draco explained, to the amusement of those at his end of the table, that it was actually Hermione who found all those ancient royal spells and taught them to Potter! Many Slytherins wanted power and prestige for their own personal glory, but an equal number were very happy to whisper in the ears of the powerful. Hermione's role here added new meaning to the term "the power behind the throne" and they were duly, if reluctantly, impressed.

As groups finally stood to make their way out to the greenhouses, it was apparent that every student in the fifth year and higher, all of the staff, and all of the adults with wands were heading out to the grounds. As Harry walked in the midst of the Gryffindors, his departure was tracked, and dozens of his classmates, from all houses, reached out to squeeze his hand or arm in gestures of support. He found himself deeply touched by this demonstration of their concern.

Sirius, Remus and Mrs. Longbottom were among the adults working with the staff to make the final preparations. A short bit of time would be needed to teach everyone the spell. There was some talk of how best to arrange all the people who would be casting, to enable them to focus their magic on one point on the ground. As they became aware of the incredible number of witches and wizards who were going to participate, some last-minute adjustments had to be made to fit everyone in, but they made it work.

The warriors formed up as a most impressive escort just inside the castle wards, and as the casters arrived and were instructed where to stand for the casting, they moved to protect them all as they moved past the wards to assume their places. It was a huge crowd, all arranged facing down a sloping hill. Harry had pointed to a spot where he saw sigils intersecting, and decided that was where they should cast the spells. Sirius marked the spot with a brightly burning flame. When all were assembled, Severus walked out with Harry to a point toward the front of the crowd that had been held aside for them, and Albus, Sirius and Mrs. Longbottom took up places toward the back of the crowd. The participants went silent, all intently watching as Harry took his place, turned to them and applied a sonorous charm to amplify his voice.

"I am first going to cast the spell to ask the earth to receive and disperse the healing spell. Once I've done that, we all need to cast the healing spell that you've just been taught, and hold it for as long as you can. Mrs. Longbottom, Professor Dumbledore and Mr. Black will then cast the Iunctum spell to join us all in one massive pulse of magic. You might hear that, and you might feel a surge of magic, but don't be distracted. Hold the healing spell! And aim for the space ahead marked by the flame. I am so proud to be doing this with you all, and so proud of your generosity in joining in. Thank you all."

Severus had smirked at Harry's choice of words – asking the earth, indeed! Anyone who knew Latin would realize that the earth was being commanded!

More than a few standing hear him gasped at the sheer power in Harry's voice when he intoned the command to the earth. Those who could not hear his voice were stunned by the impact his spell had on the flame that marked the spot for them to cast their spells. It had been a brightly burning flame about a meter high, but by the time Harry had finished his spell, it was ten times higher.

As Harry began to cast his healing spell, his voice was joined by others. The red beam that shot from the end of his wand was soon joined by others as well. Behind them, the Iunctus spells were cast, pressing a massive surge of power through them all and finally uniting all the red beams into a solid wall of red light that poured itself into the flame. Slowly, the white light of the flame turned more yellow, and finally red to match the red from their wands. Just as Harry felt he had no more energy or strength, the brilliant red flame vanished down into the earth. It was over.

The staff gently herded the throng back toward the Great Hall with promises of chocolate and news as soon as it was available as to whether this worked. Many who were too young or not sufficiently magical to participate had watched the casting from various spots along the castle walls, and they came down to join the tired but excited crowd slowly proceeding to the Great Hall. In the midst of the crowd, surrounded by his friends and family, Harry milled along with the others, too tired to notice the looks and whispers that followed him and Severus the entire way back. Severus had his hand at the small of Harry's back, ready to catch him if he faltered or stumbled, or just needed support, but not in a way that was obvious to others. It looked like such a caring gesture, provoking more than a few jealous sighs from besotted witches thinking back on those pictures of Severus in the Daily Prophet.

Severus wanted to bring Harry to sit at the head table, but Harry was adamant that he would sit with his classmates, so they detoured to the Gryffindor table and Severus proceeded on from there to the head table alone. He personally thought the sugar rush from all the chocolate bars and hot chocolate already appearing on the tables was going to make this a miserable night for all who had to maintain order in the castle, but he also had been a teacher long enough to know that once chocolate had been promised, reneging on that promise could provoke a near riot. He stoically nibbled on a bar of chocolate, although he asked the house elves for some tea to drink.

Fortunately, the wait was not long. Most were still on their first cup of hot chocolate, and maybe a few bites into a candy bar, when Madam Pomfrey arrived from the Infirmary with news for the Headmaster. She whispered urgently into his ear, and he immediately rose and called the room to order to hear the news.

"Madam Pomfrey advises me that she has confirmed her results here with medical staff at St. Mungo's and other hospitals across the world. The sleeping muggles are all in a state of stasis – the prolonged sleep will not kill them! Your casting worked!"

A loud cheer went up, and lasted for several minutes as students leapt to their feet, hugged one another, stomped and clapped. Their families, squibs and guests were no more reserved. It was quite a raucous scene over which Albus Dumbledore patiently presided. When he finally spotted the chance to continue his remarks, he added "Celebrate tonight – you have helped the world avoid a catastrophe of an enormity we cannot fathom. But sleep well – the world will need all of our efforts and energies tomorrow!"

At the head table, the hot chocolates (and Severus' tea) was replaced instantly with large tumblers of excellent brandy. Severus accepted the congratulations from his colleagues and the others sitting with them, and savored the rich taste of the brandy, all the while keeping a careful eye on Harry. He was at the center of a big knot of students. Severus wanted him to enjoy this moment, but knew how exhausted the young man was and how much he needed rest, so he was very attentive to any sign that he had to get Harry out of there. It was actually Draco who caught Severus' eye and signaled for him to come for Harry, who was nearly falling asleep standing up by the time Severus arrived. With his own offers of congratulations and thanks to the students, he gently took their hero in hand and guided him to their rooms in the dungeons.

After Severus had given him his bottle of Dreamless Sleep, Harry sidled over in bed and rested his head on Severus' chest. More than anything, he wanted the soothing music of Severus' heartbeat to lull him to sleep. Severus gently folded the younger man in his arms, and followed him into much needed sleep.


	4. Ch 81 A New Day Dawns

**Chapter 81 - A New Day Dawns**

As the first light of dawn struck Hogwarts Castle on Wednesday morning, the place was a flurry of activity, far beyond the usual cleaning and food preparation that took place normally.

Albus Dumbledore had asked the house elves to create a suite of offices off the vestibule to his own office in the tower, should it be necessary for Harry to meet officially with anyone while he was at Hogwarts. He did not want the boy going to the Ministry unless it was necessary, and this arrangement was clearly more convenient for him. While constructing an office would normally have taken no more than an hour, the house elves were beside themselves at the honor of creating something for Harry Potter's use, and spent the entire night going to absurd lengths to create a perfect space for a king.

Owl traffic had increased 10-fold, so it was necessary to expand the Owlery. As that work was under way, hundreds of owls watched impatiently from perches all over the castle. The house elves responsible for keeping the castle clean were equally anxious for the expansion to be finished, as the mess under the places the owls were perched was horrible.

The Ministry's Office of Very Important Persons, which had been handling all of Harry's mail for months now, had asked Albus if it might set up an annex at Hogwarts to process screened letters on matters pertaining to the current crisis, for more immediate attention. While Albus realized that the Ministry under Minister Bones was a far cry from the sort of place it had been under Fudge, he was still concerned about appearances, even if no longer wary of a threat to the school or its students. He designated some unused rooms off the entryway, and those rooms were being outfitted now to serve as a Ministry Annex.

The kitchens at Hogwarts were always busy. The house elves who worked there had already reached out to the elves at the other big wizard houses, estates and castles across Britain for help. Thus, even with the much larger population residing in Hogwarts, the existing space was fine. Elves in kitchens across the country were preparing food that would be magically transported to the food preparation area at Hogwarts, and if additional elves were needed at any time, they would pop in as well. It was a pity so few paid any attention to the house elves, as they had one of the most efficient networks imaginable!

Down in the dungeons, a lone house elf stood vigilant guard in the quarters of Severus Snape and Harry Potter. Dobby arrived there to check on them once they had fallen asleep. He'd disabled Severus' wake-up charm, and blocked the floo. These wizards needed sleep, and no one was going to awaken them until Dobby felt they could be disturbed.

The same day was dawning over the big house on the Riddle estate in a remote part of muggle England, but all was quiet there. Lord Voldemort had chosen to continue to use his muggle father's home because it was isolated from the muggle community surrounding it, and also from wizarding communities. He really liked the isolation.

Aside from his faithful companion, the snake Nagini, he had a few house elves to tend to his needs, and he'd invited half a dozen of his Death Eaters to be in attendance at the casting of his spell. He'd chosen his audience chamber for the event – he always favored that grand space when engaging in activities that he felt were most representative of his self-styled role as a lord. It had been a glorious moment when he cast his spell! Everyone in the room went to sleep at once, as he drew on their power. He planned to awaken his Death Eaters in good time. It took him an hour to recover himself from the casting, and he just left them on the floor of the audience chamber and retired elsewhere in his manor.

Voldemort had hoped to be able to spend Monday night reveling in the sounds of the destruction and calamity he had wrought. He wanted to see fires burning, airplanes crashing, people at the mercy of their out-of-control contrivances, dying. Alas, he was too drained from the task of casting his spell to immediately enjoy the fruits of its impact. He had not been able to do much more than listen to some far away sirens and other muggle alarms, and content himself with the knowledge that no one was going to answer the alarms, put out the fires, stop the unfolding nightmare.

His grand plan was coming together! As a child at an orphanage, he learned to hate muggles and their mechanical devices. He had none of the things that they all seemed to covet. At the time, it pained him greatly, and for a while in his youth, he more than anything wanted those things. As he learned more about his own true nature, and of things from a world these muggles knew nothing of, his desires shifted. He concluded that muggles added no value to the world, and it would be a better place without them and all their mechanical devices. A priority in the plans he began to formulate while still in his teens had always been to create a world in which there were no muggles. In his youth, those plans usually featured something gloriously loud and bloody. The mechanics of such destruction were always the stumbling block. If the process took too long, resistance would develop. As he matured and assembled all the elements he would need to actually implement the plan, he realized that even with his trusted minions engaged in a process of eradication of the muggles, it just was not possible to accomplish the main objective, ridding the world of those useless muggles. As he considered other options and further refined his thinking, he finally understood that the best option was one that was quiet, fast and irreversible. He gave up the drama and thrill for the certainty of success.

The best option proved to be one he found poring over the old Slytherin notebooks capturing Salazar's remarkable work on Dark Magic. Those sleeping spells that figured prominently in some muggle fairy tales were based on ancient magic that had largely been lost to the world, but some of which had been preserved by Salazar in his notebooks. When he understood how to separate out the elements of the ancient spells, and discovered a means of world-wide casting, he knew he found the key to his life-long goal! A world with none but magical folk, all of whom were totally loyal to him and him alone, where his word went unquestioned, and his needs and desires the ones that set the agenda for all.

Voldemort understood that his spell was going to affect all of his Death Eaters when he cast it, but realized that worked to his advantage. Nagini had pointed it out several months, and he agreed that she was right – it would be better for him to keep even his Death Eaters at arm's length during the delicate final preparations, lest any of them come to understand what was to happen and take steps to undermine or alter what he proposed to do. To his horror, he had learned that at least two of his most trusted inner circle had broken faith with him and allied with his enemies! They were no better than muggles! But the bitter experience of seeing those he had carefully cultivated and ultimately rewarded with the gift of his favor made Voldemort understand that he could never fully know or trust anyone, and he was quite prepared to follow Nagini's suggestion. He'd been cutting himself off from everyone, even his most ardent followers for months now, lest any more create problems for him.

By using a spell that would put all humans to sleep, and to which he alone held the key to reversal, all would perish EXCEPT those to whom he showed favor. He could awaken his Death Eaters, and be sure they understood that it was only because of his mercy to them that they were alive. He was confident of their undying loyalty and gratitude once they realized how totally they owed everything to him. He could place a stasis charm on others, perhaps those about whom he was not really sure, and he would have decades to decide if he wanted them to live or not.

The casting of the spell into the ley lines, even though drawing most of the power from those who bore his Mark, still drained and exhausted him. However, time stretched before him, and he felt no urgency. He could take all the time he needed to refresh himself and replenish his magical reserves, and then begin a triumphant tour of all the places of interest to him, where he most wanted to personally revel in the destruction he had caused.

Because of his isolation in a muggle area, he had no way of knowing that all those with magic had been awakened within minutes of being put to sleep by his spell. The drain on the power of those who bore the Dark Mark had been most sudden and severe for those standing closest to him when he cast his spell. Thus, he had actually killed three of the six Death Eaters who had attended him as he cast; they were not sleeping, but were dead. He had completely destroyed the magical cores of two of the others, rendering them muggle by the time they fell to the floor of the audience room. The last one had lived and retained some magic, but he was unconscious from the drain when Harry Potter's counterspell cancelled the sleeping spell, and thus had no knowledge or awareness of that.

It would not be clear to an observer who did not have medical training and who knew what to look for, for a while yet, that the muggles were in stasis while they slept, and were in no imminent danger from dying from dehydration because of the sleeping spell.

As the dawn slowly brightened the sky on Wednesday morning, it was over a vastly changed world. Some had a much more accurate understanding of the changes than did others.


	5. Ch 82 Getting a Handle on Things

**Chapter 82 – Getting a Handle on Things**

It was a good two hours after their usual rising time that Dobby finally woke Severus and Harry. Professor Dumbledore had been asking to see them when they awoke, and Dobby was not persuaded by that request to hasten their awakening. Severus was particularly piqued that a house elf had interfered with his schedule in this way, but when Dobby did something to protect Harry Potter, he neither apologized nor backed down if challenged.

By the time the two arrived in the Headmaster's office for an update on what had gone on overnight around the world, Madam Bones and Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt were already waiting there to see Harry. Cornelius Fudge's perception to the contrary, Albus Dumbledore was actually very careful to keep his roles as Hogwarts' Headmaster separate from any other role he might play in the wizarding world. He allowed the meeting to occur in the Headmaster's office because he'd taken a quick look in the space that he'd had the house elves prepare for Harry's use, and he was reasonably certain that Harry would be mortified by the enormous throne room done in Gryffindor colors. Let the boy see it in private and adjust it to his tastes.

Based on Fudge's reaction to the news that Harry had sealed the Well of Despair in the Winter Lands, he was a bit nervous that he and the Headmaster would be in trouble now with Madam Bones for having acted in casting the spell as they did last night without Ministry involvement. That wasn't it, at all. Unlike her self-aggrandizing predecessor, she was very thankful for their help, and wanted to update Harry and Albus on the outreach the Ministry had done overnight.

"We've spoken to the wizard leaders in nearly every country across the world. The casualties are enormous, both to muggles and to wizards, and the damage is horrific. However, we know that those muggles who survived the casting of the sleeping spell and its immediate aftermath are at least likely to survive the spell itself. This morning, I created a new Emergency Situation Office in the Ministry to coordinate the magical response to the situation here in England, and collect and disperse information about the event and the recovery efforts. It will also be our point of contact on this matter to the governments of other countries, for coordination of efforts and mutual assistance. I've invited the wizard leaders to assemble in our Ministry offices tomorrow to discuss our responses and resources as we plan to act. The muggle world is in an absolute shambles, and we need to do something now if we want it to be available to them when they wake up."

Harry did not want to get involved in what he saw as the civic responsibility of the wizard leaders, and he felt that Madam Bones might be expecting him to do so. "I have great faith in the leaders of each country to determine what steps we with magic need to take to repair and preserve as much of the muggles' world as we can. It's also a matter of finding and helping squibs who did not know they had magic, and who are probably frantic now about what they see; we brought quite a few here when we retrieved the family members of students. I look to you and the other leaders to develop the plans to address what needs addressing, and to mobilize the resources that are available to them. I am not going to play a role in that work, or direct it. You do not need me for that."

Madam Bones nodded in understanding. She had not expected Harry to want a role, but thought it was probably appropriate to ask him.

Harry asked her "Might you permit Mr. Shacklebolt to work with us here on some issues we want to pursue? If we need to go into the community, or to connect with the Ministry on certain things, his participation as part of the Hogwarts team would be very valuable."

Kingsley looked pleased to be asked. Madam Bones did not say "no" but she did want to know what, exactly, the Hogwarts' team was going to be doing.

Severus sketched out the areas that seemed to bear most immediate work. "We noticed the impact of the casting of the spell by Voldemort on those who bore the Dark Mark – a few deaths, several reduced to squib or even muggle status, a massive drain on their power. I believe that Voldemort sees this as a perpetual power source for himself, and we want to learn as much as we can about the Dark Mark and how it operates, to find ways of removing, blocking or reversing the process. We have a group here with access to some ancient texts that might shed some light on this, but we'd like to find more of the Death Eaters and begin to publicize their current situations. I suspect many never realized this was what Voldemort planned to do to them, and if they learn of the fates of some of their ranks, at least a few might come forward and work with us. We would need Kingsley's assistance in reaching out to them, and in making sure information then reaches the right hands. Is your Press Office involved here?"

"We put a member of the Press Office staff into the Emergency Situation Office, and have already made our contacts with the newspapers. The Daily Prophet has been astonishingly responsible about this. Their coverage, for once, is straightforward and honest!"

"That's surprising, but good news. Would you agree to seconding Mr. Shacklebolt to Hogwarts knowing at least this much of the general focus of our work? As events unfold, we might proceed in other directions, and there might not be opportunities for updates to you in advance."

Madam Bones looked thoughtfully at Severus, then at Harry. "I think it would be good to have Mr. Shacklebolt here, perhaps to provide security assistance, and whatever else is appropriately required of him, or the Ministry, if necessary. I'll designate him as my Special Representative to the Ministry's Hogwarts Annex."

Harry chimed in again. "We don't know what Voldemort plans to do next. If we can find someone in whom he confided any element of his plans, or who observed anything that might give us a hint, or who has any theories about his intentions, we want to find them and learn what they know. We also have to plan for his reaction to what we've done to alter his plans. Clearly, he expects the muggles to die off; how will he respond when he learns they will live? I assume he expects many witches and wizards to die off as well, and we are all awake because of the pulse of magic I sent out. How will he respond to seeing us all up and about? We've heard the house elves here refer to Voldemort as 'He Who Would Walk Alone.' How will he react when he finds us all walking on the same path as he is?"

Kingsley nodded at that. "So this is not over, is it?"

Albus answered for them all. "I fear it may just be beginning."

X X X X X X X X X X

As Albus escorted Amelia Bones to the floo, Harry and Severus had a private word with Kingsley. "I suppose I can see your interest in removing or inactivating the Dark Mark, Severus, but helping Death Eaters – they are the enemy! Why on earth do we want to protect them from their chosen master?"

A flicker of annoyance crossed Severus' features, but for once, he held back his temper. "I am sure none of them expected to be used in this manner, and from what we've seen, many of them are in very bad shape, and a few are dead. I believe that more than a few will rethink their choice of Voldemort as their master and be glad for a way to desert him. Voldemort joined many of the strongest witches and wizards of our world to him, so if they remain with him, they will be powerful enemies. Better if they are our allies, or at least not part of the fight. Lucius Malfoy was brought to Hogwarts by his son yesterday; we've provided him a room in Slytherin House for his recovery. He told me months ago that he thought the Dark Lord had gone insane. I don't think he actually parted from the Death Eaters until that fracas at the Ministry. I suspect that Voldemort saw that as desertion from his ranks. However, Lucius was already worried some time before and might have information of use to us. I suggest we speak to him first."

Kingsley was both fascinated and appalled. "Do you really think you can trust someone like that?"

"Harry does. And I trust Harry."

Harry smiled warmly at Severus at that statement. "He is on a new path. I saw it that day at the Ministry. Once he made his choice that day, he set foot on this path and there is no retreat. He has no choice."

Kingsley furrowed his brow at that – he had no idea what they were talking about and made a mental note to ask Severus for an explanation later.

Kingsley joined Severus to floo to his office in the dungeons, and Albus asked Harry to join him for a minute to take a look at the space being created for his use. As the floo wooshed him away, Severus was certain he heard a loud, pained groan from Harry. As Albus suspected, it needed to be toned down a bit.

Albus offered Harry the use of his floo for Harry to depart as well, but Harry wanted a brief walk to clear his head. Before stepping on the revolving stairs, he asked "Why on earth would they look to me to sort all this out? What can I possibly do?"

"You did just want they needed you to do, my boy. Give them inspiration, encouragement and a purpose. Amelia here in Britain and her counterparts in countries across the globe – they are the ones who know what their countries need right now, and what their resources and infrastructure can provide. Leave them to it. Where we need you, Harry, is where we've always needed you, to help us understand Voldemort's plan, and then to help us thwart it and defeat him. That will not be a country-by-country exercise. Your position will be essential in unifying the wizarding world's resources to rid us all of Voldemort's evil and insanity."

"I should go back to translating those notebooks then. There might be something in there that would help you and Severus in spotting anything in Slytherin's Light work that would help us defeat someone pursuing ideas he offered in his Dark work."

"Yes, and no. Right now, if I may suggest, I believe you need to visit with your godfather and Remus and with your friends and classmates. Find out what they are doing and experiencing, and listen to their stories. They need your inspiration, too. Your friend Ron knows the ways of battle, so engage him in thinking about the battles to come. The ones who have been out rescuing people – what have they seen and how do they feel about it? Have they any ideas or observations? And my goodness, one can only imagine what Miss Granger is researching as we speak! In guiding you to discover your true nature, she has already done so much, and yet I suspect so much more is still to come from her! We can gather together after lunch, and devote time this afternoon to the business of translations and strategy."

Harry nodded. He knew that Professor Dumbledore was right. But it wasn't just his family and friends who needed Harry. He just as desperately needed them, for a breath of normalcy, a few moments to remember who he was and that others loved him. He headed down to the Great Hall to find out what was happening there.

X X X X X X X X X X

The Great Hall was a raucous hubbub of activity and chatter, which Harry found incredibly comforting. Of course, he could not slip in unnoticed, but as a swirl of people congregated around him, just as fast, Ron, Neville and Sirius were by his side, and gently eased him out of the throng and over to a seat at the Gryffindor table. His friends were all clearly happy to see him, and it was wonderful that with them, he was just Harry. It was almost like a normal day here, except for the fact that Sirius was sitting with them, and Charlie Weasley was at the table, with Draco looking slightly out of place amid all the Gryffindors. "Well, looks like you lot had a good time last night! So, what's going on? Have I missed anything?"

Amid gossip and commentary from the others, Ron provided an update on the expanded and still on-going rescue efforts, now reaching out to extended families and best friends, and with Remus' help, some efforts to extricate people caught in crashes on their way home. He'd discovered that in Moony form, he was able to lift small automobiles, and even half-collapsed walls of buildings, feats that clearly impressed the others.

"Who's out there helping? Anybody not from Hogwarts?"

Neville took that one. "No wizards, but the places we've gone haven't been where you'd expect to see wizards anyway. We did see quite a few squibs wandering around. Professor Dumbledore asked us to get their names and addresses, so the Ministry can get help to them, and maybe get them involved in the rescue efforts."

"Madam Bones was here this morning. The Ministry will be organizing efforts to do what it can to preserve the muggle world, and I'm sure they'll be doing something to look after the squibs. She assigned Kingsley Shacklebolt to the Ministry Annex here at Hogwarts, so he can help us and keep them informed. It really bothers me that we don't know if Voldemort knows about what we've done yet, or what he'll do when he does find out."

Hermione looked up from a stack of books. "You've always been able to sense when Voldemort experienced high emotions, so I expect you'll know if he's really upset. I can't imagine him not being upset when he realizes how completely you spoiled his plans! What he'll want to do might not be clear, but I suspect you'll know as soon as he learns."

"Well, we'll have to be ready then to adjust our strategy on the fly, if we can't plan it out in advance. Ron, if you have any thoughts about a strategy for this, let me know. Hermione, have you found anything interesting there?"

Of course, Hermione had found many interesting things, but she realized she had to edit herself for this audience. "I've been looking into Black Wyrms. The records that identify them as mere animals, as Fudge described them, go back just two hundred years. There's absolutely nothing about them before that. Then I remembered that you called them "dragons" so I looked into that. No current information about dragons includes anything like what you described, but I found an essay about the creation myths associated with dragons, so I researched the creation myths." She extracted a particularly worn and dusty book from the stack before her and opened it to a page she'd marked with a small bit of parchment. There was a pen and ink drawing that she showed around to the others, drawing looks of vague disgust and alarm from all but Harry and Sirius. They merely looked at each other, nodded and Sirius confirmed "That's them, that's exactly what they look like."

"Well, the thing is, this book says this is a drawing of a mythical creature, one that never existed. The story goes that these were a race of creatures that lived both on the land and in it, who were very magical, very intelligent. Their hearts were set on the sky, and over millennia, they traded much of what they had as Black Wyrms for the ability to fly, to become the flying dragons we know."

Harry shook his head and shrugged. "No, Mione, they're here today. Just like in the picture. The ones I spoke to in the ley lines did say that they were all born knowing how to travel within the earth, although they preferred the sun over the shade so few of them went into the earth."

Hermione frowned in annoyance at the book. She did not blame the book for being wrong, but she was very annoyed at the long-ago researcher who wrote it for being so mistaken about his topic. She'd look further into mythology then, to see if there was useful information about Black Wyrms. If Harry said they would be his allies, she felt he should know in what ways they might be able to contribute.

Sirius was curious about Harry's visit from the acting Minister. "I asked Professor Dumbledore about that myself. He thinks she just wanted to tell me in case I did want to be involved. I told her this was her job and she and the Ministry should do it, and that seemed to be fine. It looks like my job will be to ultimately deal with Voldemort. He's seen as more of a global, rather than national, scourge these days, and I seem to represent the international response."

Sirius looked at his godson with such sad eyes at that; what an awful burden to put on someone so young, and how sad that the young man accepted this burden as his lot in life! Harry caught the sad expression, and gave Sirius a smile. "It's OK, Padfoot. Really."

Harry listened in one the gossip and banter for a while, until he noticed Severus in the door to the Great Hall, apparently looking for him, at which time he took his leave, promising to check back in with his friends later.

X X X X X X X X X X

Severus and Kingsley had just had a very interesting conversation with Lucius Malfoy. Both Kingsley and Lucius were wary of each other, and it was only the assurances from Severus that Harry trusted each of them implicitly that either would share much of anything, but once past that hurdle, the information flowed.

Lucius had not been in a fit state for any conversation until today, and he was still quite weak. He expressed his gratitude to Severus for the hospitality of Slytherin House, and the care of Madam Pomfrey. Suddenly, Malfoy Manor did not feel as safe as it once did, and Lucius did not yet trust the brave new world forming up around Harry Potter to be comfortable going to someplace as public as St. Mungos.

His normally smug and controlled expression completely faltered when Severus shared the news of the fates of some of the other Death Eaters. Severus thought he saw horror and fear, for sure, in the motions Lucius could not hide, but also rage.

"Severus, I told you months ago that I thought the Dark Lord was completely insane. He had become very secretive. Maybe not suspicious or distrustful overtly, but he suddenly did not want his Death Eaters around him. Narcissa mentioned that he even sent Bellatrix away. When he did summon any of us, it was for very specific, narrow tasks, for which we were never told the larger purpose. His snake Nagini was with him constantly, and they were forever whispering to each other, even though obviously none of us could understand the snake language in which they were speaking. In the past, when the Dark Lord was planning something, he was very boastful. Even if he chose not to share the details of what he was doing, he made frequent references to events that would remind the world of his greatness. He said absolutely nothing about his plans or their impact, but he did have a smugness, a certainty, about him. After the calling, we heard absolutely nothing from him at all, until he drained our power." Lucius sounded stunned still by those words as he spoke them.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter told us that he wants to research the Dark Mark, and see if there is some way to block the drain, remove the Mark, whatever, to prevent He Who Must Not Be Named from drawing on power through the Mark."

At this, Lucius cast a totally disbelieving look at Severus. "Potter? I concede fully that his magical strength is almost beyond comprehension. But some of the most brilliant minds in the world have tried for years to undo these Marks, without success."

Severus smiled at that, and tried to keep a smirk off his face. "Actually, Lucius, I suspect this research will fall to his friend, Miss Granger. Did you know that it was she who discovered the ancient royal spells and taught them to Mr. Potter? Plus, they have access to some ancient texts which I suspect are contemporaneous to the ones I believe the Dark Lord consulted in creating the Dark Mark. I am rather optimistic."

Lucius turned disbelieving eyes back to Kingsley, who seemed completely unfazed by this side conversation. "As I was saying, Mr. Malfoy, there is interest in finding a way to shield those who bear the Mark from further drain on your powers. While the impetus is to deprive He Who Must Not Be Named from access to your power, there will be benefit to you in this as well. I would like to ask two things of you. We are going to begin publicizing the stories of the impact of the casting on those who bear the Dark Mark – the Daily Prophet will begin running obituaries this afternoon. I assume that most of your associates will be in worse shape than you are now and will be quite distressed to learn that others died of this experience. They might also need medical assistance, so I would ask if we may establish an infirmary at Malfoy Manor, to provide needed assistance in a more private setting. Second, Professor Snape and I drew up a list of those he knew to bear the Dark Mark, so I can try to quickly locate them and bring them to Malfoy Manor. Would you please check it over and let us know if you think there are others I should reach out to?"

Lucius really did not know what to make of this. Was it a trap – gather all the Death Eaters together and kill them? He trusted Severus, at least not to be behind a plot to execute a group of depleted and essentially defenseless witches and wizards. Potter was more of an enigma with every passing day, but his Gryffindor nature should assure that he would not be duplicitous. A service like this might be to his advantage down the road, with minimal risk to himself, at least for now. With a nod, Lucius reached for the offered list. "I will make arrangements with my son, Draco, to adjust the wards at the Manor to admit you and those Death Eaters who ask for admittance, and to set up a suitable space within the Manor to care for those who need it. I will give him the contact information for the mediwizards I would trust with this work and ask him to arrange for that, as well. All should be ready by mid-afternoon." He reviewed the list, and added two names of persons he thought had taken the Mark after Severus broke faith with the Dark Lord.

X X X X X X X X X X

Severus provided a quick overview of what had been discussed with Lucius. Harry had some questions about the idea of an infirmary at Malfoy Manor. Severus had been a guest there many times, and he described the large ballroom in the main house, and a pavilion in the garden with several good-sized rooms. "Lucius has enviable contacts in a medical world – he will know very skilled, very discreet mediwizards. And the wards at Malfoy Manor, which extend over the gardens, are rumored to be the strongest of any over a private residence in Britain. Kingsley, we've already brought the Death Eaters who have children attending Hogwarts here. If at some point, we feel they should move to Malfoy Manor, we can arrange for their transfer. For now, do you plan on handling these visits alone? Or would you like me or one of the others to go with you?"

"I doubt that will be necessary. If the destination is Malfoy Manor, I don't expect that they will object to coming along, if they are in a fit state to protest at all, that is. I'll get portkeys made for transport, just in case, once I get the coordinates from young Malfoy. If you don't mind, I plan on telling them that Harry Potter and Lucius Malfoy offer them sanctuary and an opportunity to recuperate at Malfoy Manor under the care of one of Malfoy's personal mediwizards. Is that acceptable?" Harry agreed, while Severus went once again to the door of the Great Hall, this time to summon Draco, so he could speak to his father.

While Draco and Charlie Weasley (Draco insisted that Charlie accompany him) went to visit with Malfoy, Senior, Harry asked Severus "Do you think I might have a word with Mr. Malfoy after they've gone?"

"I have to imagine he will be very flattered, Harry. What did you want to speak to him about?"

"I want to go over in greater detail some of the changes he observed in recent times in Voldemort's behavior. He had months of contact with him after you left your role as spy, so maybe if we do this very carefully, and in a more private setting, you might recognize little changes to his patterns or plans."

Severus was secretly relieved that Harry intended to include him in the meeting. There was no way in the world he would have allowed Harry to meet with Lucius without him being present, and he was glad not to have to make an issue of it. He just did not trust Lucius with Harry.

"Also, Hermione mentioned something to me that Sirius said to her. He'd offered to get her some books from the Black library at Grimmauld Place – remember, Remus brought them to her yesterday in the Headmaster's office? He said the Black family library was one of the largest private wizarding libraries in Britain, second only to the Malfoy library. I'm hoping he will grant us access. And remember, Voldemort gave Mr. Malfoy Tom Riddle's diary for safe-keeping. That's how it got to Hogwarts my second year; he put it in Ginny Weasley's cauldron when we ran into the Malfoys in Diagon Alley. I'm really hoping that Voldemort entrusted him with more than just that diary – maybe some notebooks, for example?"

Severus was amused at Harry's persistent use of titles when addressing adults; he knew that would really shatter any hopes for intimacy harbored by the elder Malfoy! He was also impressed with how quickly Harry and his little band seemed to knit facts together, and come to some intriguing conclusions.

"An excellent idea, Mr. Potter!" Harry smiled at the praise.

X X X X X X X X X X

While Harry and Severus waited for Draco and Charlie to leave Lucius' room for Malfoy Manor, Severus slipped into his office and quickly set up some parchment and quills with a dictation spell, and linked it to a ward that would identify the speaker. Once they were in Lucius' room, a quick charm embedded in a silencing spell would activate the quills, and a transcript would be made of the meeting. If nothing else, Miss Granger would have a document to review – he was sure she'd love that. Plus, this was so much easier than taking notes!

Harry was shocked by how bad Lucius looked – tired, shrunken in on himself, even frail – and he was one of the lucky ones! But as Severus predicted, his ego was puffed by Harry's personal visit. He could almost see the wheels turning in his mind, how to take advantage of this situation.

"Mr. Malfoy, I do hope that you are feeling well enough for some further conversation with Severus and me." Smoothly (too smoothly for Severus' tastes), Lucius responded "Please, call me Lucius."

To Severus' relief and/or glee, he was not sure which, Harry did not acknowledge the request and continued "We would like to review as many details as you can recall of Voldemort's behavior over this past year or so, when you noticed the changes that caused you to tell Severus you thought he was insane, as much as you can think of. With your permission, Mr. Malfoy, Severus has charmed some quills in his office to take notes of this conversation, so we can work with it later." Severus cast his spell to activate the quills at Lucius' nod. For nearly an hour then they went back over the some of the general topics they'd discussed with Kingsley, but in far greater detail, with Harry and Severus probing and asking more questions.

"Thank you for all that detail, Mr. Malfoy. I'm hoping we can discern some clues from all of that as to what Voldemort has planned, if there is something bigger than what he's already done planned. I have just a few more questions, if you're up to it." Actually, Lucius appeared to be fading, but aside from accepting a cup of tea from the house elves, was willing to proceed.

"I've heard of your library at the Manor, reputed to be the largest private wizarding library in Britain. We need access to very esoteric, ancient materials, not available at Hogwarts, or pretty much any other general library, and I am very hopeful that you will agree to grant me, Hermione Granger, Severus, and Professor Dumbledore access to your library. I'd like Draco to work with us, although I assume he has access already. I suspect that you have the kind of material we need." Lucius was quick to agree to that.

"Also, Mr. Malfoy, I believe at certain times, Voldemort entrusted you with some of his old books, for safekeeping. I'm particularly interested in knowing if he gave you any that were particularly ancient, or written in a foreign language." Lucius was clearly taken aback with that question. He'd never admitted anything about Tom Riddle's diary to Harry or anyone else at Hogwarts, but he knew what Harry believed. He thought about the other books the Dark Lord had given him. With a fatalistic inner shrug, he realized he had no choice. His feet now trod along Potter's path, not the Dark Lord's. The secrets and confidences that had once been between him and Lord Voldemort could no longer be maintained, if Potter had need of them.

"The Dark Lord has given me a number of volumes over the years, some for safe-keeping, and some to add to my personal collection. I kept them all together in a warded cabinet, because frankly, I did not know what to make of them. Most are in a very old form of English, although several are in a language neither I nor any of my researchers over the years were able to identify."

"As I'm sure you realize now, while he was at Hogwarts, Tom Riddle found the Chamber of Secrets. The Chamber wasn't just the home of a basilisk. During the time he was at Hogwarts, Salazar Slytherin used it as his own retreat, and most importantly, he kept his personal library in the Chamber. He had a remarkable selection of books, at a time when any book was rare and precious. Severus, about how many books and manuscripts would you estimate are in the library?"

Severus caught what Harry was doing and was quite impressed. Lucius was positively salivating over news that Salazar's library had survived, and Harry was reinforcing Lucius' understanding of Severus' role in his life by sharing that they had been in the Chamber together. Harry would have been a positively frightening Slytherin had he accepted the Sorting Hat's initial suggestion – the others in Slytherin House would not have stood a chance!

To Harry's question he replied "It's hard to day, although now that you mention it, we should at some point catalog everything in the library carefully. I would hazard a guess that there are maybe five hundred or so books and manuscripts there, including the notebooks. The empty shelves held maybe another twenty or thirty books and notebooks, and of course, you took, what, a dozen notebooks?"

Lucius' eyes were bulging at that information. Was it possible that he had held, in his very hands, material that had actually belonged to the legendary Salazar Slytherin?

As if Harry had read his thoughts, he continued "I'd like to see these books. Of course, they might just be old books that Voldemort bought on his own, but it is possible that they are books he'd taken from the Chamber as a schoolboy. Either way, seeing what sort of things were of interest to Tom Riddle or Voldemort might help us understand more about the direction he is contemplating now."

Severus was really enjoying this, watching his old friend squirm. And he knew that the best was yet to come; he allowed himself an inward smile at the pun. From the looks of things, it was indeed possible that Lucius would come, in his pajamas, when Harry brought up the notebooks.

"And the notebooks, in the strange language, what can you tell me about them?"

"There may be half a dozen or so. The Dark Lord gave them all to me about twenty years ago and asked me to keep them safe. He did not seem to have any further need of them; he never asked for them. I looked them over, but could not read the language. I have had my researchers, as well as some well-regarded epigraphers, study them as well, but the language or script is not known."

Harry nodded at that. "Actually, Mr. Malfoy, I believe that the existence of the language is known to many, but the ability to speak or read it is exceedingly rare. It is very likely that the notebooks are written in Parseltongue."

Lucius actually gasped at that.

"I found about a dozen notebooks in Parseltongue that Tom Riddle had not bothered with. They were the notes Salazar had made on topics pertaining to Light magic. On the other side of the library, there was empty space on a number of shelves, where other works, mostly about Dark magic were removed. I believe Tom took all of Salazar's notebooks on Dark magic. I am hoping that he gave at least some of those to you, and that you will permit me to borrow them."

Lucius seemed to need a moment to find his voice. When he did, all he could manage was a fairly breathless "Of course, Mr. Potter." Beyond that, words seemed to fail him.

Severus had already determined the logistics that he wanted to put in place. "Draco is adjusting the wards to admit Kingsley Shacklebolt, your mediwizards, and those Death Eaters who wish to come to Malfoy Manor, and he's setting up appropriate accommodations to deliver needed care. Might I ask him to further permit an open floo connection between the floos in the Manor library and Mr. Potter's offices at Hogwarts? It will be a small group wishing access, and I want them to be able to do so quickly and privately. Would you permit us to remove materials of interest to Mr. Potter's offices here for quick reference? Obviously, we will put ancient materials into the heavily warded cabinets where the other ancient material is being kept; if necessary, we could also store them in the Chamber."

Lucius hated giving up control of the access to his prizes like this, but he did not see a way around it. He might be able to parlay this accommodation to Potter now for something later – assuming, of course, that there was a "later." Possibly some translations? Maybe a visit to Salazar's Library? He saw some potential here. "Of course, Severus."

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I'll ask Draco to give us a quick tour of your library first, and we'll set up a system to track any materials we remove, so there is no confusion and we are sure to return all of your books and other documents when we are done."

X X X X X X X X X X

After Harry and Severus left, Lucius took a moment to reflect on what absolutely astonishing luck that ugly bastard Snape had in being bonded to Potter. Completely putting aside that the boy had matured into an absolutely delectable young man, the power he had! Access to Salazar Slytherin's personal library, and his own notes, in his own hand! Nothing had been said, but Lucius assumed that Potter could translate those Parseltongue documents, too.

Lucius did not "do" jealous, not with all his resources, his exceptional good looks, his pedigree. At least, he did not do jealous until today. "Damn you, Snape!


	6. Ch 83 Surprises All Around

**Chapter 83 – Surprises All Around**

After lunch, a small group gathered in Harry's offices to discuss their trip to Malfoy Manor for a tour of the Library. Harry had had the massive throne room replaced with two rooms: a sitting room suitable for meetings with representatives of the Ministry of Magic or other officials, and a large room with a big oak table and cupboards well-stocked with parchments, quills and ink. An open floo connection had just been established between the large fireplace and the Malfoy Manor Library. The group settled around the table included the Headmaster, Severus Snape, Harry, Hermione and Draco. Draco insisted that Charlie Weasley come along, and Charlie in turn insisted that his brother Ron join them, too.

Harry looked more confident than most had seen him look for a long time. In the past, he often had a real air of resignation about him – he was accepting of his fate, but there was always a hint of regret or wistfultness, a longing that some other direction might have been taken. Severus leaned back in his chair and cast an appraising eye on the young man. There was no wistfulness, regret or resignation in him now. He was developing a real presence, as a young man with a mission, the success of which was his entire focus.

Severus noticed Albus noticing, too. He was studying Harry closely over his half-moon glasses, the usual twinkle-eyed grandfatherly expression replaced now with one of anticipation and curiosity. Hermione looked thoughtfully at Harry, not with awe or adoration, but with calm interest. At one time years ago, Severus had wondered if those two were destined to marry, because they seemed so close. It was quite a surprise to him to learn that she was interested in the red-head in the trio. He idly considered that there really was no accounting for taste.

Draco was flirting shamelessly with Charlie, who was good naturedly trying to keep up a conversation that included his brother.

When Harry stood up to speak to the group, there was no nervousness or hesitation in him, He walked around with his arms swinging freely, and his voice was strong, The bright eyes shone with determination.

"As you all know, Lucius Malfoy has very graciously granted us all access to the Library at Malfoy Manor. Severus and Draco have established an open floo connection between the fireplaces in this room and the Library there; you will not need passwords, but this floo connection only works between these two places, so you cannot use them to go to any other destination. Mr. Malfoy has also agreed that we may borrow books to bring here for reference and study. I want to be sure that we keep Mr. Malfoy's property separate so we can be sure to return it all to him when we are done. Severus has placed a charmed ledger on the desk near the floo in the Library – just put the books you are taking or returning on the desk one at a time and it will record their departure or return. While those books are here, please keep them in the bookcases in the back. Ancient manuscripts and notebooks will go in the warded cabinet in the Headmaster's Office when we are not using them.

"Now then, what we're going to be looking for. We all have perspectives. Let me tell you that my biggest fear right now is what Voldemort will do when he realizes how thoroughly I've spoilt his plans. The most straightforward action seems to be to be to simply re-cast the sleeping spell, and that worries me the most. I am not sure that I will be able to awaken everyone again; I'm still pretty weak from the last time. The pure sleeping spell, with no stasis component, will assure that those of us with magic will die just as Voldemort intended the muggles to die. To re-cast his spell, Voldemort will need to draw on the power of those who bear the Dark Mark, as he could not accomplish this using just his own power. Given what we saw him do the first time, he will do what he must to get the power that he needs, without regard to what it does to those whose power he is drawing. My thinking is that we need to disrupt his access to his power source right away. That's my priority."

Rather uncharacteristically, it was the younger Weasley who responded first, with an even more uncharacteristically thoughtful look on his face. "Disrupting an enemy's supply line is always a good move. I'll wager that He Who Must Not Be Named has built his plans for whatever he plans to do around the fact that he can access the power of all his Death Eaters at will. Depriving him of that access will mean that he needs to come up with a new plan. Like in chess, an unexpected move by an opponent can take the best game plan and make it useless. You have to come up with something else, on the spot, and that's harder to do. You can make mistakes."

Albus had his grandfatherly twinkle back, as he looked approvingly at Ron. "I agree with both of you, in terms of how Tom will react to learning that his plans have been disrupted, and in the benefit of disrupting his access to the power of others. Deciding what we want to do, though, is only part of our problem. By far, the thornier issus is how to do it. Years ago, when Tom first started marking his adherents, a number of us studied the mark itself, as well as the ritual used to create it, to see if we could interfere with its use. Not understanding its full purpose at the time, I fear we might have missed something. However, we were not able to remove it or block its intended use."

Draco had gone still as the Headmaster spoke. He wondered who "us" was – no doubt some other secret the Gryffindors would never entrust to the Slytherin in their midst. He was especially confounded at the statement that these "us" were studying the Dark Mark and the ritual. How on earth could they have known anything about that? He'd been pestering his father for years for even a hint of what went on and his father, usually a push-over for Draco when he put his mind to it, had held firm and refused to provide any information. Then it hit Draco like a bludger. Snape! Was it possible that he'd been aligned with Dumbledore and this Light bunch, and had taken the Dark Mark to spy? The one thing his father had told him about the ritual associated with the Dark Mark included a vow of secrecy, and violation of that vow were punishable by a tortuous death at the hands of the Dark Lord. Draco's eyes went to Severus, the astonishment and awe evident on his face as he finally understood the role that the man had been playing for years.

Severus seemed to be aware of Draco's gaze, but he steadfastly refused to return the look or do anything to acknowledge it. Harry noticed Draco's expression and recognized it for the moment of understanding that it represented. When Draco eventually directed his attention back to Harry, Harry nodded to confirm that, yes, Severus was a brave and remarkable man.

Albus was explaining the process he had used to bind Severus' Dark Mark with a silver coil and then ward it against Voldemort's reach. The ward was a particularly complicated one, requiring skill and magical strength. Even worse, it required the physical presence and cooperation of the bearer of the Mark. Severus spoke up to acknowledge that. "It took over an hour to create the binding and ward that you used on my Mark. Even if several of us learned how to do it, the logistics and timing are against us if we have to apply it one-by-one to all the Death Eaters. Even with the coil and the ward, the Dark Lord was still able to access my power. Not nearly to the extent that most experienced, but I was not totally protected from that."

Harry continued. "Mr. Malfoy told me that he has some notebooks in a strange language that Voldemort entrusted to him for safekeeping years ago. I am hoping that they are more of Salazar Slytherin's notebooks, and that they contain information that will help us. Once Voldemort created his Mark and the ritual he used, maybe he no longer needed the reference books he consulted when he created them. Those notebooks and the other ancient texts Voldemort gave to Mr. Malfoy are my priorty."

Hermione consulted one of her ever-present lists. "I think then we need the ancient texts and notebooks right off. I'd like to find books on ancient spells or the history of spells, earth magic and sigils, the creation mythology of dragons, wizarding battle tactics and strategies, and anything you may have on demons or demon-summoning."

X X X X X X X X X X

As the last member of the research team stepped through the floo and into the Malfoy Library, Draco explained the layout and pointed to areas where books on certain subjects were most likely to be found. It was a huge space, with massive mahogany bookshelves that soared to the vaulted ceilings, and tapestries covering any patches of wall that the bookcases missed. There were tables with comfortable chairs scattered throughout, as well, with charmed candelabra floating above each to provide reading light.

Ron left the group once the books on battle tactics were pointed out. Draco extended an apology that the material in that section hadn't been updated since the death of Abraxas Malfoy in 1701, as he was the last Malfoy with any interest in the subject.

The others wanted to see the whole Library, and Draco walked them though, eventually stopping at a rather drab alcove off to the side of the large room. "Here's where Father keeps his special material – things that he'd generally not share." Draco proceeded to tap several books with his wand, and slowly the shelves spread apart, the top one moving right, the next one down left, each shelf moving aside in turn, finally revealing a compact room with a comfortable chair in front of a gleaming mahogany table and a few small bookcases holding a variety of books and parchments, some quite old and others rather obviously of recent vintage. Harry could feel the frission of a preservation charm as he entered, not too unlike the charm that Salazar Slytherin had left on his library in the Chamber of Secrets, which explained the lack of mustiness or dust.

Severus spotted several small notebooks that looked like the ones that Harry had removed from the library in the Chamber, and he gathered those together immediately. Harry looked them over briefly before confirming that they were Slytherin's notebooks written in Parseltongue. The others crowded around with great interest, Draco first among them, to see such obviously ancient documents written in such a rare and obscure language. To the eye of anyone who was not a Parselmouth, it looked like unintelligible doodles on fading ink on very old parchment, and it was something of a shock to realize that Harry could read that instictively.

Several other old texts that had been given to Malfoy, Sr. by Voldemort were also added to the stack. Most of the other books in this room dealt with Dark magic of questionable legality, and seemed unlikely to be helpful to their quest. Severus was about to suggest that they head off to the general library when he noticed Hermione kneeling before one of the bookcases, rummaging behind some books and removing some other books that had been stored behind them. He knealt down beside her to see what she'd found, and immediately regretted the decision to do so. There were books on bondage and slavery, embarassing evidence of what he assumed was one of many kinks in which Lucius indulged. To his shock, though, Hermione was reading the titles and stacking them up, as if she was going to bring what was likely a wizard's pornography stash back to Hogwarts!

"I think Mr. Malfoy spent some time himself over the years looking into the nature of the Dark Mark and maybe even trying to learn how to remove it, Harry. Here's a whole stash of books on bondage and slavery."

Severus sat back on his heels, with surprise and some new respect for Miss Granger clear on his face. That was exactly what the Dark Mark imposed on those misguided enough to accept it! Especially during the long period after his Avada Kedavra spell rebounded off Harry and the Dark Lord was missing, Lucius no doubt wanted to be rid of the Mark himself. Some of the books she was gathering were fairly new, and others quite old, confirming that this was Lucius' collection and not something he'd gotten from the Dark Lord. He helped Hermione pile all the hidden books on the table, joining Salazar's notebooks.

Charlie Weasley was already going through each shelf carefully, checking to see if there was any other material hidded behind the books that faced out to the room, so Severus went to the opposite end of the bookcases and started to do the same. Eventually, when they met in the middle, they had to conclude the Hermione had spotted the only material that Lucius felt he had to hide even in this most private and secure of spaces, although Charlie had found a few other books that pertained to dragons that he'd now added to the pile.

Albus surveyed the collection of books and parchments on the table. "May I suggest that Severus and Harry return to Hogwarts immediately with these materials, and Draco, you can close up your father's private room. The rest of us can take a bit more time to peruse the main library before we go back."

X X X X X X X X X X

Petunia Dursley was faring a bit better today in the greenhouses. She was getting the hang of evading the attempts of the plants to grab her or hit her, and was more confident of the process to follow to cut off the mature leaves of the plants she was asked to harvest without getting bitten. She still found the whole situation quite grotesque, but at least she felt she was developing competency at her task.

A young man who bore the most uncanny resemblance to the younger of the two Windsor princes came round to collect the leaves from her, and she momentarily broke from her work. As she handed over her hard-won foliage, she asked "Have you any idea what they use this stuff for?" Recognizing someone who was probably as new to magic as he was, he replied "No idea. I gather baskets from different people, and bring them to a room in the place everyone calls the dungeons. Some of the things in the baskets look like regular leaves, sort of like this, but some baskets are sealed and there are noises coming from them, almost like crying. It's really strange."

She rolled her eyes in agreement at that last. He continued "I only just learned that I have magic. I'm told I'm a squib. Were you familiar with this world before this happened?"

That was not a good question to ask Petunia, because she really could not control the venom that found its way into her answer. "I knew that people in my family had magic – my sister and her son, freaks, both of them. The boy goes to school here now. That's how I got dragged here when this nonsense started."

"So, you weren't pleased to learn that you had magic, too?"

Petunia looked insulted. "Of course, I don't have magic! I'm a normal person. This is all a mistake."

The young man gave her a sad look as he hoisted his growing collection of baskets and took his leave. "Sorry, ma'am. Only those of us who do have magic are awake now. Everyone else is asleep. Good day to you."

Petunia was sorely tempted to ask the young man if anyone ever told him that he could easily pass for the younger Royal, but decided against that. She took a cup of tea from a kettle in the back of the greenhouse (amazing how they always had hot tea available, even in out-of-the-way places like this!) and was joined moments later by a young woman, probably still in her 20s, who sat down next to her, "Isn't that one a charmer? Lovely fellow for a Royal, not at all stuffy or aloof." Petunia looked at the young woman and then at the retreating figure of the young man to whom she'd been speaking just seconds before. "He can't be . . . " "Oh, yes, he is. He and his brother turned out to be squibs. My husband was one of the Ministry employees who brought them here from the Palace, and got their father and grandparents off to St. Mungos. I'm Amaranth Savoy, by the way. I graduated from here ten years ago. With all this going on, and with my husband having to work all hours, he suggested that I bring the children and stay here for a while."

"Are you staying in the dorms?" She hadn't seen any families in the dorms in the Hufflepuff area, but there were probably others.

"Oh, no, we have a tent. Most of the families with children are in the tents, it's easier that way. Professor Dumbledore allowed us to set up the tents in the interior courtyards."

"Isn't that terribly uncomfortable?" Petunia had visions of the pup tent that Vernon had bought for her Dudley years ago for a Scout overnight. Dudley had been so unhappy that he'd insisted that the Scout master call Vernon to pick up Dudley by 11 pm, left the tent behind, and never went back to Scouts.

Amaranth looked at Petunia with understanding. "You're new to magic, right?" At Petunia's nod, she went on "Our tent doesn't look like much, but it has two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a small kitchen and a very good-sized great room."

Not seeing any little children around, Petunia inquired about them. "Oh, my Rose is just five last month, and little Harry is three. Professor Dumbledore had the house elves create a lovely play area for children down by the kitchens. I brought our house elves with me here – they can help out at Hogwarts and keep any eye on the children for me while I help out, too."

Petunia had a question in her mind, and debated with herself whether she really wanted to know or would she be upset with the answer. Finally, curiosity won out.

"What is a house elf, if I may ask?"

Amaranth laughed, not at her but with warm amusement. "Right, new to magic. House elves are little magical creatures, who, more than anything else, love wizard houses. Some are bound to the houses themselves, like the elves here at Hogwarts, and others are bound to wizarding families, like the two who came with me. That's why I can entrust my little ones to their care. Say, would you like to have lunch at my tent? It's nearly lunchtime. We could nip on over to the tent and I'll have Aulie or Yoper bring us some sandwiches there. If you've never seen wizard space, you'll find it very interesting."

Petunia was not without her misgivings about this; after all, this was a woman who lived with her family in a tent, and entrusted her children to these magical elves rather than tend to them herself. However, Amaranth was the first wizard to actually be nice to her, and she felt so lonely. Thus it came to pass that Petunia stood in a courtyard that hosted nearly two dozen tents, most slightly shorter than her full height and none much larger than the smallest bedroom at Privet Drive. Amaranth held back the flaps to one of the smaller tents and gestured for Petunia to enter, which she did with some trepidation. She was absolutely stunned to step inside and find, just as her young friend had described, a good-sized great room with a kitchen off to the side, and doors leading presumably to bedrooms and bath. Her brain was having a hard time reconciling the obvious dimensions of the tent from the outside and what she saw when she entered. She turned quite pale as she tried to process this, which alarmed Amaranth enough to call out for Aulie, who always knew just what to do when someone was ill or injured. Petunia took one look at the little house elf when she popped into view, and her eyes rolled back in her head, and she fainted dead away.

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry and Severus spent a productive couple of hours as Harry summarized the scope of the subjects of the notebooks they had taken from the Malfoy Library, and identified several portions that might have been the genesis of Voldemort's work on his Dark Mark. While Harry worked on the translation, Severus waited on the others to return from Malfoy Manor, so Severus took advantage of the temporary lull to pay a visit to the potions lab in the dungeons, to check on the work being done. All the cauldrons were in use, and he felt it was such an inspiring sight to see all of them being put to such productive use, by people who knew what they were doing and took pride in the product. So unlike a typical potions class, when there were always at least two or three cauldrons at risk of imminent explosion because of the stupidity of students not heeding instructions! More as a show of support and appreciation than necessary supervision, he slowly made his way through the room, stopping and commenting (and even complimenting) the work that was being done. There was a nearly full basket of calming draughts and blood-replenishing potions, so he placed a featherweight charm on it and went off to see Madam Pomfrey. He would deliver the potions and see if there was any change to the mix of potions needed.

Severus found the mediwitch taking a rare break in her office with a cup of tea. The successful casting of the stasis charm had eased her burden a bit, as she no longer had to take steps to actively care for the muggles sleeping in Hogwarts, but as news of the catastrophe in the outside world trickled in, she had accepted some former students and their families in as patients. The aftermath of Voldemort's casting left many witches and wizards (as well as muggles) with significant crush and impact injuries from all manner of accidents. She was glad to see Severus, and quickly relieved him of his basket of potions. "Thank you for these, Severus. Might I ask you to get your team working on some nerve regenerator potions right away? The kind of injuries we're seeing here, and at St. Mungos and other hospitals, involve extensive damage to the nerves in limbs. We had plenty of Skele-Grow because it has a very long shelf-life, and you've been a great help with the blood-replenishers. Everyone, it seems, is running low on the things they need to deal with the damage to nerve cells, and a healed limb with no nerves is not much use to anyone."

"Of course, Poppy. The group working down in the dungeons right now is quite up to the task of brewing that, and I'll get them started right away. This was a big order of calming draught – will this be sufficient for a while, or do you expect to need more of this, as well?"

"Unfortunately, we still need lots of calming draught. The squibs are driving me to distraction. Some of them are just not handling their first exposure to the magical world well, at all. Most of them are coming to terms with the portraits moving, although quite a few still have had a problem when the portraits try to engage them in conversation. And today, that Dursley woman, Harry's aunt, I believe, caught sight of a house elf and fainted dead away. That one's a trial when all is well, but she has taken three doses of calming draught already and all we've been able to do is stop her hyperventilating."

Severus fixed a level gaze on Poppy Pomfrey, and asked "Is Mrs. Dursley still here? I'd like a quick word with her. If she's due for a dose of calming draught, I'd be happy to bring it to her." Poppy was only too glad to not have to deal with Petunia, and extracted a vial of the draught from the basket he'd just delivered and gave it to Severus. "She's in the third bed from the back of the room, over by the windows. She was hysterical about that, too – said she needed to be near a window."

Severus found Petunia Dursley just where Poppy said she was. He was very pleased, indeed, with the report of the distress Petunia experienced when not near the window. She was propped up on pillows with a blanket across her lap, dozing more than sleeping, and she stirred as soon as she realized someone had stopped near her bed. He arranged his features in his fiercest glare, drew himself to his full height, and stood where his face would be the first thing she would see when she opened her eyes. He was quite satisfied with the look of terror on her face as she took in his presence.

"Mrs. Dursley, I am Severus Snape." As she stared at him in mute horror, he took advantage of the situation to stare back and quickly legilimize her. Severus had been haunted by Harry's apparent memory of pain, when he rubbed his hand as if it hurt when they discussed the formal dinner. Harry wouldn't tell him what had happened, but he was certain someone had done something to him. He harbored a strong suspicion that it was the woman before him, and he wanted to find out what happened. It did not take him long to find her memory of the event in question. She had poured scalding water on the boy's hand in punishment for his simply touching a piece of her silverware and then she shoved the child into the closet and locked the door, while she and her family enjoyed a pleasant dinner party. It took almost all of Severus' substantial self-control to not just strangle her with his bare hands, right then and there. He thought about it, but knew Harry would not approve, and that was really the only reason he did not kill her right then. However, there would be vengeance, even if in his heart, he felt it was not sufficient.

For her part, Petunia was absolutely cowed by the visage of the most evil looking person she had ever seen. The black eyes, staring at her with such malevolence, and the sneer on the long face. He was absolutely frightening. When she experienced a moment of muzziness after he introduced himself, she concluded that the absolute fright of seeing that face as she awoke from her nap was the cause. She did not catch the almost casual wave of his hand in her direction as she composed herself.

"Madam Pomfrey mentioned that you were due for another calming draught, and I offered to bring it over to you." Petunia reluctantly reached out her hand to accept the offered vial, which she quickly drank down. "We have not been introduced, but I am the bondmate of your nephew, Harry."

Despite the influence of the calming draught, the mention of Harry's name brought forth a torrent of vile. "That horrid boy! This is all his fault. He and his parents, freaks all! Oh how I wish he'd just died along with them and saved us all the trouble!"

Severus now understood why Remus slapped her. But for his certainty that Harry would not forgive him, he'd crucio the bitch into madness, right here, and dare anyone to stop him. However, losing Harry was too great a price to pay for a moment of pleasure. "He is, as I said, my bondmate, and I will not tolerate such disrespect to him or to me."

Petunia almost seemed to have forgotten momentarily that he was there, and she refocused on Severus. "What is this 'bonding' you mentioned? Someone else used that term." Severus shrugged slightly as he said "It's a ritual that joins two magical beings, a union of sorts, a very powerful and total partnership." She struggled with the concept for a few seconds, but suddenly had more to say. "That sounds like a marriage, for heavens sake!" Severus only shrugged at that. "Do you mean to say that you are married to the freak? On top of everything else, he's a fairy? Oh, this is rich!"

Having committed to himself not to kill Petunia, he reacted to that in a way that he felt would forever shame him as being an action worthy of Fred and George Weasley. "You will not speak of Harry in that manner. Ever again. Or you will suffer for it." This time, Severus' hand movement in her direction was a bit more obvious, although while Petunia flinched, she realized she did not feel anything. "You are a child-moles . . ." Petunia's own words were interrupted by her own very loud belch. She looked very embarassed, and quickly looked around to see if anyone noticed. She started again. "You must be as disgusting and . . . " This time, her tirade was interrupted by the unmistakeable sound of her passing gas. In case she was missing the point here, he leaned ever so slightly closer to her and spoke very softly. "Mrs. Dursley, every time you attempt to speak ill of Harry, whether to call him a freak, or to wish him ill, or attack anyone because of their association with or admiration of him, you are going to experience a loud and uncontrollable bout of flatulence. No one else has to know about this, if you hold your tongue. Otherwise, you will suffer great embarassment every time you speak that way." He turned on his heels and strode away, his robes billowing behind him.

X X X X X X X X X X

Professor Dumbledore had insisted that all who worked on the research and translation project in Harry's office take at least a one-hour break and have dinner in the Great Hall. Harry was part of a noisy knot midway down the Gryffindor table. From the expansive gestures Seamus Finnegan was making, it appeared that he was regaling the group with stories of his escapades on rescue missions. Now that Ron was devoting more time to the research project upstairs, Seamus had begun working with Sirius in organizing Hogwarts' rescue missions. They were all very proud that Kinsley Shacklebolt had invited the Hogwarts rescuers to join the teams that the Ministry was organizing, so tomorrow, they'd all be flooing to the Ministry and linking up with the teams leaving from there. Likely, the students did not realize that the Headmaster had used significant arm-twisting and persuasion with the Minstry to secure that invitation, because the Ministry was initally totally opposed to accepting student volunteers. Albus noted the enthusiasm of the students, and was glad that he'd made that effort. The excitement was not just at the Gryffindor table, either. There were pockets of excitement and animated conversation on the same topics at all the other tables, as well.

Harry seemed to be really enjoying the stories and was very generous with the praise and gratitude he expressed to his friends. He was very pleased to learn that Neville had taken on full responsibility for several of the greenhouses, enabling Madam Sprout to provide needed supervision to her "squib squad," as she called all the squibs who had volunteered to work there. Ginny Weasley had been thwarted by her mother in her efforts to join the rescue squads, although her loud, persistent complaints about that to her father landed her a role on a team in the Ministry office itself that planned and tracked the rescue missions.

It was a chance remark by Neville that clued Harry in to his aunt's presence in the Infirmary. "I heard that one of the squibs who's been working down there was invited to visit one of the tents for lunch, to see what wizard space looked like." Harry smiled, fondly remembering his own reaction to a wizard tent when he went with the Weasleys to see the Quidditch Cup. Even the horrible aftermath of that game could not dim the memory of the amazement he felt when he first walked into the tent. "I gather she caught sight of a house elf, and fainted dead away. Then, none of the house elves would help move her to the Infirmary. I've never heard of them flatly refusing a request by wizards like that. I thought it was because they were offended that she fainted at the sight of one of them, but it turns out that they know she hates magic and they believe she's hurt wizards."

Harry had learned early that he could not share certain information about his life with the Dursleys with anyone. No one was going to help him, and he only made things worse for himself when he said anything. He'd never confided any of the details of his situation, but somehow, Cornelius Fudge had learned about the abuse, and now, was it possible that the house elves knew? That description certainly would apply to Aunt Petunia. He hadn't seen her, so it was likely that she had opted to work in the greenhouses. Maybe he would stop by the Infirmary for a minute on his way back upstairs to his office, to check if she was there.

When Harry asked Madam Pomfrey if his Aunt Petunia Dursley was in the Infirmary, the mediwitch pointed him to her bed. Harry quietly approached, in case she had fallen asleep, but as before with Severus, she was just dozing and awoke immediately when he approached. "You! Your boyfriend or husband or whatever . . ." Aunt Petunia almost drowned out her own voice with an enormous, loud fart. Harry was startled – Aunt Petunia always said the most awful things about women whose stomach's so much as growled or who even hiccuped in public. He did not know how she did it, but she never made those kind of noises, until now. He looked startled, although it would have been easy to burst into laughter at the look of shocked surprise on her face. "It's all his fault. He told me! He did this to me! The freak . . " This time, her own very loud belch interruped her. Harry caught the pattern, and he thought it was brilliant! "I gather that Severus has been here. I heard from a friend at dinner that someone had fainted at the sight of a house elf, and I suspected it might be you. I'm on my way to a study group, but wanted to stop in to be sure you are recovering. Good night."

By the time Harry entered the office, Severus, Hermione and the Headmaster were working with the translations he'd finished before dinner, and he quickly got to work on the remaining volumes that he and Severus had identified. He'd have to speak to Severus later, in private, to compliment him on his masterful handling of Aunt Petunia's mouth. Hermione mentioned that Charlie and Draco had gone to their room and Ron went off with Seamus and the others back to the Gryffindor common room. As much as he loved the others, Harry knew that the ones who needed to be doing this were in the room now.

As he was translating the words from Parseltongue and speaking them in English to a charmed quill, something in the words he was speaking started to nag at him. There was a connection in all this, but he could not put his hand on it. He kept going, hoping that it would come to him later. Just as he finished the last of the translations, it did come to him. There was a similarity in this material to something he recalled reading in one of the Light notebooks, one he did not think he'd actually translated yet. As he delivered his latest translation to the team working at the table, he returned the notebook to a shelf and took that other notebook, and he immediately resumed translating the pages that looked relevant. He worked as quickly as he could, but needed to take care to translate everything. Read so soon after the Dark work, the parallels were obvious.

As he brought the final translation to the table a couple of hours later, he interrupted the group. "I think I found something. In the Dark notebook whose translation I gave you earlier this evening, there were some passages about magical alliances and power sharing. Good, you're looking at that one now. As I was reading that, some of it seemed familiar, and I recalled something from a notebook I'd skimmed but not translated; it was about the duties and honor that wizards owed to one another in any collaborative effort. I think Salazar anticipated the desire to combine powers at times, and being able to act in concert, and he wrote of that in the Dark book, but he also recognized that sometimes the combinations would be misused or the power of a wizard abused in some way, and he had some thoughts on how to address that. I just finished translating that part of the notebook; here it is."

Albus took up the papers Harry had put on the table right away, and his watery eyes glistened as he read through, muttering an occasional "right!" or "of course." "Harry, I agree that you most definitely appear to have something here. I'd like to take a few hours to study this, and check some other materials. One of the advantages of advanced age is that I don't need the amount of sleep I once did, and I'd like to propose that I carry on for a while here, while you all get some sleep. Return for breakfast tomorrow, and we can resume then. If you're all half asleep, you'll miss things. We need everyone to be fresh. Good evening."

While Severus was primed to protest, he caught Hermione concealing a yawn. Albus did have a point; they were all knackered. He was not sure about Albus' statement that he did not need as much rest any more, but he decided not to argue. He helped the others gather the materials that were not going to be used any more that day and return them to their places in the bookcases, and took the original notebooks back to the Headmaster's office to put them in the warded cabinet. Harry pointed to the floo, and the two wearily took handsful of floo powder and stepped through to their rooms.

Severus poured himself a firewhiskey and was about to settle in on the couch by the fire to give Harry some time to get ready for bed, when he found Harry clutching a tumbler of butterbeer and joining him on the couch, settling in with a loud sigh, and looking at him with a knowing smile. "I heard about the squib who fainted at the sight of the house elf, and something in the way it was told suggested I might know that squib, so I stopped by the Infirmary after dinner to check on Aunt Petunia. She said you'd been by." Harry waited to see if Severus would pick up the story. Severus looked at him sidelong, with a very slight smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Yes, I brought her a vial of calming draught and introduced myself this afternoon. A particularly vile creature. I fully understand why even someone as placid as your friend Lupin would loose his control with her." "You did not strike her, but you did come up with a most ingenious punishment, one I never would have suspected of you." By now, Severus was smiling for real. "True, it was beneath me, but it seemed appropriate at the time." Harry snorted at that. "You've no idea! She is the type who looked askance at any woman who made any kind of bodily noise in public. This has to be the most perfect thing. She was mortified when it happened. I have to imagine that she'll figure out how to control her tongue sooner rather than later now that she's faced with that sort of reaction."

Severus turned to face Harry as he sat, placing in drink on the table beside the couch, and Harry mirrored his action. Severus' eyes glowed with pleasure that Harry was pleased with what he'd done, and he reached out his hand to stroke Harry's arm as it rested on the back of the couch. Encouragingly, Harry leaned forward and snaked his own arm around Severus' neck, pulling him in for a kiss. As kisses went, it was a mild one. Severus truly enjoyed the bruising, crushing kisses that left him hard and breathless, but there was something so intimate about this gesture. It felt so natural.

"Harry, it's not Friday yet. We are going to start over, and do it right the next time. Do we risk getting that right if we start now?" "Can we maybe just start a little now, so Friday is still the real start, but we just enjoy things a bit now?" Severus answered by leaning in himself for a soft, tender kiss, gently exploring Harry's lips with his tongue and waiting for the lips to part rather than pressing with his tongue to force entry. As much as he wanted to explore that lithe body just touching his, he knew his self-control had it limits, and he was sure that any more intimate contact or touching would put him in a place from which he would not be able to turn back. He'd take this and enjoy it for what it is, looking forward to more, and what he really wanted, soon.

Harry was also feeling a growing arousal, and his breath deepened. He knew he wanted more, even if he wasn't entirely sure about what that would entail. He happily gave himself over to the sensations coursing through his body, and followed Severus' lead. Unfortunately, Severus did have enough self-control at this point for both of them, and finally he broke the kiss with a gentle stroke to push Harry's hair off of his forehead. "Harry, if we don't stop now, Friday will not mean what we want it to mean. Go, get ready for bed. I'll be in in a few minutes." Reluctantly, Harry did as asked, needing just a few extra minutes in the shower for a few strokes to his achingly hard cock to release in an explosive orgasm. He waited in bed for Severus to take his shower, which Harry suspected involved the same few strokes for Severus to come as he showered. When Severus climbed into bed, Harry scooted over as he took his bottle of dreamless sleep, and pressed his ear to Severus' chest, to fall asleep again to the music of his heartbeat.


	7. Ch 84 Strange Bedfellows

Chapter 84 - Strange Bedfellows

Kingsley Shacklebolt was amazed how quickly a very respectable medical facility had been established at Malfoy Manor. He and Draco had consulted with the mediwizards Lucius had recommended and they advised to set up their infirmary in the ballroom, dividing the large open space with curtains. Beyond the physical set-up, the potions and other medical supplies were from Hogwarts itself, or some of the best European purveyors. Once there were beds in place, Kingsley had started to visit the witches and wizards on his list of British Death Eaters, and began a steady delivery of magically-depleted and injured individuals to the infirmary. He had anticipated resistance, or reluctance at the very least, when he, a well-known Auror, approached Death Eaters about helping them to relative safety. However, that was not the case at all. Most of these people were, first and foremost, feeling totally betrayed by their Dark Lord, regardless of the level of their depletion or collateral injuries. No one he was able to find refused the invitation to be taken to Malfoy Manor.

Aside from a dozen or so Death Eaters who he could not find at their homes or other known haunts, Kingsley had gathered everyone on the list provided by Snape and Malfoy by Wednesday night. Thursday, he started reviewing the list with those in the infirmary capable of being interviewed, to identify others who might be in need of assistance. A few of the Death Eaters he approached were reluctant to speak to him, but once one agreed to cooperate, the resistance ended. Once he'd gotten a few new names, Abner Goyle, the first willing to assist, suggested that he would continue the discussions with his colleagues so Kingsley could spend his time out gathering people as they were identified. It was a remarkable partnership, and a very efficient process.

Everyone seemed to be aware that there was a room over by the windows where their former colleagues were sleeping, and everyone avoided going near there. The mediwizards were excellent and were achieving remarkable results for most of those now in their care, but there were some former Death Eaters who were now stripped of magic entirely, and were experiencing the sleeping spell in their new status as muggles. The mediwizards had tried all they could think of to restore their magic, or to rouse them, but finally they had to conclude that these individuals were beyond their help. It had seemed prudent to place them all together for ease of whatever care they would need, and it also proved to be a good idea because the sight of the sleeping former wizards was very upsetting to the others in the infirmary.

Kingsley's Thursday collections task was quite different from the day before, as the people he was contacting now had generally been very discreet about their status and had never been public about their alliance with Voldemort. He was now visiting some of the finest homes in Great Britain and meeting with patrician heads of ancient families, people used to asking the questions and being in control. While his work on Wednesday involved people glad for the safety and help he offered, today's visits really made him draw on his Auror training. He had to spend a good deal of time talking to each one he visited, engaging in verbal sparring matches with most. The fact that he arrived attired in his exotic African robes always helped, because he did not look like a Ministry employee, especially not an Auror. That was why he continued to wear those robes, even though his family had lived in Great Britain for five centuries now. His deep, rich voice also helped, adding gravity to his words by the weight of the sound. As he met with each of these supposed and/or clandestine Death Eaters, he carefully observed and assessed if they seemed to have depleted magic or were otherwise ill, and he watched the reaction to the names he dropped (Cornelius Fudge, then Amelia Bones, Harry Potter, Lucius Malfoy) to plot his most persuasive argument for them to accompany him to Malfoy Manor. In some cases, it was also necessary to establish a credible story to tell family and business associates to explain a trip of several days duration to visit at the Malfoys. It was a bit of a drudge to tell the story over and over, but it proved necessary with all he met with. By his estimate, only one of his meetings on Thursday was with someone who was NOT a Death Eater. She was an elderly witch, who appeared to have no outward sign of any magical depletion. After some waltzing about, she finally showed Kingsley her unmarked forearm and explained "Lord Voldemort had been in persistent suit for my allegiance until several months ago, and then he stopped contacting me completely. I have not seen or heard from him since."

One younger wizard, Eustace Landon, was a particularly difficult case. He was not the head, but the scion, of a venerable family, and despite haughtiness that rivaled Lucius', he was clearly very much dependent on his family for his financial support and social standing. It was equally clear that both would be jeopardized if they knew he had taken the Dark Mark. Even though Kingsley was able to secure a private meeting with the young man, Eustace was clearly unwilling to admit to anything that would meet with his father's disapproval. He continued to deny any involvement with Voldemort , even though he was clearly very weak and under stress from trying to hide that fact. It was only when Kingsley thought to propose that Eustace join a gathering at the Malfoy Manor of young witches and wizards of good standing to make the acquaintance of Harry Potter that he got a flicker of a favorable reaction. He added that Mr. Malfoy had arranged for the presence of some outstanding, and very discreet, mediwizards to assist any visitors in need of any magical medical care. Before Eustace could respond to that proposal, an older and very severe looking gentleman entered the room, in clearly expensive formal robes and all puffed up and full of self-importance. "Now see here! I will not have Ministry functionaries disturbing my family. What is this about?" Kingsley forced down his desire to hex the man for his rudeness, and responded in his most silky tones "I am acting now in my capacity as special Ministry Liaison to the offices of Harry Potter, at Mr. Potter's specific request and on Minister Bones' direction. Mr. Potter has asked for the opportunity to meet with some of the younger witches and wizards of prominence who have wizarding backgrounds different from his own, and Lucius Malfoy has graciously offered the hospitality of his Manor for such a gathering. I am here to invite young Mr. Landon to join us." As he suspected he would, the older man immediately reacted to all the names he had just dropped, Harry's in particular. After almost no further thought, he said "It will do the boy good to make the acquaintance of Potter, and meet Lucius Malfoy as well." With that, he turned on his heels and left.

Kingsley looked at the slightly relieved Eustace, and softly added "I imagine you will be at the Manor for several days, maybe longer. We'll have anything you need, or one of the house elves there can pop back here to retrieve anything you may require from home. We will take a portkey to the Manor." He extracted a charmed notebook from a pocket and held it out. As soon as Eustace touched it, he spoke "Malfoy Manor" and they were whisked away.

For all his bravado at his home and in front of his father, Eustace collapsed in a heap upon arrival at the Manor and was immediately taken to the mediwizards. They were astounded that the young man had been able to stand at all over the last few days, his magical reserves were so depleted. They were hopeful of being able to restore his magical strength, possibly even to its prior levels. To no one's surprise, and his protestations to the contrary notwithstanding, upon removing his robe and shirt as they prepared to get him into a bed, it was discovered that Eustace did, indeed, bear the Dark Mark.

X X X X X X X X X X

At Riddle Manor, Voldemort finally felt up to the task of dealing with this new world that he had created. He had planned to do it yesterday, but was still so drained himself that he slept the day away. His house elves had woken him for nourishment and healing potions, though, so this morning was a good one. He felt strong and anxious to see what he had wrought.

He wasn't sure about sharing his world yet, but also realized that some of those he might want to rouse might soon be past revival if he did not wake them now or put them in a state of stasis. His first stop was his audience chamber, where he uttered a stasis spell. Nagini, draped across his shoulders, was furiously tasting the air with her tongue. "Master, three of your servants have not survived. I smell death." The snake pointed her head at three bodies, and Voldemort had to agree – they were definitely dead and there was a smell of decomposition in the air. He had no further use for these three, then, and with a wave of his wand, he vanished them. The others looked alive, and seemed to be breathing, so he cast a spell to wake them.

As it happened, the one who had only suffered a reduction in his magical levels had been in a light coma, and was coming around to the point that the noises made by Voldemort and Nagini really did wake him. He was very weak and barely able to stand up in the presence of his lord. Voldemort assumed that he was suffering from the lack of food and water, and simply summoned a house elf to get him into a bed and tend to him.

The two who remained asleep despite the charm to wake them puzzled Voldemort, but Nagini's flicking tongue confirmed that they lived. Not wanting to delay his progress through a ruined world, and deciding that he would enjoy this experience more alone with just Nagini for company, he summoned more house elves and had those two moved to beds for care. He would address their inability to awaken later.

Voldemort strode calmly down the lane that connected Riddle Manor to the road that led to the village and then down that road, enjoying the sounds of the chirping birds and barking dogs. It was a bit of a walk, but he put a featherweight charm on Nagini, and enjoyed the breeze as his long strides took him closer to the village he detested. He did not want to miss any of the destruction here. About five minutes into his stroll, he came upon his first muggles. Some boys who had been riding bicycles had ridden off the side of the road and landed in ditches, and were sleeping amid the ruins of the bicycles. A bit further along, he began to see automobiles that had clearly been in motion when their drivers fell asleep. Two had crashed right into each other – it must have been quite a fireball, as the cars were charred black, and Nagini confirmed that she smelled death in them. Elsewhere, he saw automobiles that had crashed into trees and tall wooden poles by the sides of the road, and over there, one had plowed right into a house! A few muggles who had been moving about but not in cars, were stretched out in various places. Some looked like they were sleeping contentedly, but others had clearly had more violent landings as they went to sleep, with limbs at unnatural angles to their bodies, and blood pooling beneath them.

Possibly Voldemort's favorite site of this morning stroll was a small group of houses huddled together as the road entered the town proper. Fire had spread through the three small homes, utterly destroying them. Even nearby trees were singed, and cars parked too close to the houses had exploded. While the fires had died down, there was still some smoke, and the lovely smell of destruction.

The town itself, with its tight concentration of muggles, afforded its own lovely vistas. With more pedestrians out amid the automobiles, there were more crashes that prominently featured destroyed muggle bodies, pinned between cars, or between cars and trees or buildings, clearly run over or even still beneath cars. A very large bus had crashed into the base of a bridge, and there were bodies strewn within it.

There had been enough accidents with fatal outcomes, and enough death in general, to satisfy Voldemort's blood lust and cause Nagini to report the smell of death, that neither noticed that many muggles were sleeping and in no distress at all. Yes, a car had struck a baby carriage and mangled it badly, but the frame of the carriage had protected the infant within, who was sleeping contentedly. A child who had been on a swing had tumbled into the sand below, now sound asleep. Even some of the automobile accidents involved drivers and passengers secured by their seatbelts, and further protected by deployed airbags, now sleeping in the ruins of their cars. Voldemort did not look that closely at the muggles to see that if they had survived whatever happened to them at the moment sleep overtook them, they were doing fine now.

"Ah, my faithful Nagini, it does my heart good to see these worthless vermin reduced to this! The total inevitability, the certainty of the outcome, just the passage of a modest amount of time, and they will all be dead. And the chance to winnow the vermin and weak from the ranks of the magical! This was truly a momentous event, one that the future will regard with awe – the time that those who did not merit space in this world were summarily dispatched from it, without further thought, so that those who deserve what this world can offer will be assured of a large portion!"

As a child in the orphanage, Tom Riddle had seen almost nothing of England, and by the time his horizons had expanded, he was part of the wizarding, not muggle, world. But there was one place in muggle London of which he had seen a picture in a book that captured his imagination at the time, and which later began to represent the excess and folly of the muggle world to him – the bustling hub, Piccadilly Circus. "Come, my pet. Let's visit Piccadilly Circus." With a chilling laugh, Voldemort and his snake rose into the air, and began a leisurely flight toward London.

X X X X X X X X X X

The Ministry of Magic's Emergency Office had conducted a very successful international meeting, at which mutual cooperation and support were pledged and preliminary rescue plans shared. The stasis spell had fundamentally changed the definition of "rescue" in this context. It enabled the British Ministry to focus on a plan it had developed called "Operation Safe Harbor." The objective of Operation Safe Harbor was to move sleeping muggles to places of secure shelter, where the environment would allow them to safely sleep off the spell. Witches and wizards, able to use levitation spells, would move the muggles to shelters, and the plan was to have squibs monitor them to assure that all remained well in the shelters and that they remained secure.

The Ministry workers had been working in teams to identify locations in cities and towns across Britain that could shelter larger numbers of muggles, and established protocols to follow in suburban and rural areas. When Albus Dumbledore approached the Ministry with the request that his Hogwarts students be allowed to assist in these efforts, the initial negative reaction was changed by both the force of Dumbledore's arguments (focusing on the fact that his students were all magically strong, and had a strong desire to be of service) and the development of Operation Safe Harbor. Operation Safe Harbor presented opportunities for participation in some safer environments. Further, by bringing students to London, they could be paired up with Ministry workers or even Aurors, an additional safety consideration. An agreement was reached, and a secure floo connection established between Hogwarts and the Ministry. Today was the first day it would be used by the volunteers, who were queuing up at the designated Hogwarts hearth. The group assembled included students, and some of the adult witches and wizards staying at the school at the time.

Ron Weasley was at the head of the group of students waiting to leave, appropriate because he'd been leading the informal teams that had gathered students' families. His brother Charlie was there, which meant that Draco had signed on for this as well. Fred and George were ready to go, as was Seamus and a large contingent from Gryffindor. Sirius and Remus were in the crowd, although not yet certain of the roles they wanted to play. They had discussed whether they should even bother to go to the Ministry at all, and decided to at least start there. As word got around of the Ministry's program, Operation Safe Harbor, Sirius had a predictably negative reaction to that name and he could not resist a small outburst. "I'm not going to spend my days in some muggle elementary school levitating muggles into classrooms! Where's the fun in that?" Remus smiled at him, although he had to agree that putting them, in particular, into that situation would be a terrible waste of talent. As animagi, they could certainly serve in a very different role, one that most others could not. However, unlike his volatile mate, Remus did want to hear what the Ministry was planning, even if he and Sirius decided to strike out on their own.

As they arrived at the Ministry, the staff welcomed the volunteers and began arranging them into teams to work on Operation Safe Harbor. Sirius and Remus held back, and watched as Charlie and Draco were paired with a Ministry worker to go to Cambridge and get the students at the university into safe locations. Charlie looked a bit put out at the rather tame assignment, but Draco looked relieved. The twins were off to shopping malls with a group of students and a Ministry worker to sort out shoppers and salespeople, and Ron's eyes bugged as he landed what he clearly regarded as an absolute plum assignment, working with an Auror and a wizard about Charlie's age in the subways of London, mostly securing platforms and waiting areas.

None of this was exactly what Remus or Sirius had in mind, so they quietly slipped out of the Ministry and apparated into central London to see if there wer more muggles to be extricated from the numerous accidents that littered the street. On the few missions they'd been on to date, especially when transfigured into Mooney and Padfoot, their heightened senses of smell and Mooney's extraordinary strength had enabled them to find dozens of muggles that Ministry teams had missed. Sirius had spent time in muggle London, as had Remus, and he recommended that they go to one of his favorite places to observe muggles, the area around Piccadilly Circus.

As they began to walk around in that area, Padfoot sniffed every car and bus carefully, and Mooney sniffed and used his great height to look into their windows. They were in a spot that had apparently been swept by an uncommonly competent team already, but then they reached the roundabout. There was an absolute riot of mayhem, as cars and busses had plowed into each other, light posts, and the monument in the center, and a few had even jumped the curb and plowed into the buildings. There was a great deal of water; most likely, a fire hydrant had been hit, as well.

Their sharp hearing caught something – a flapping sound, but it wasn't birds. In keeping with the nature of their human cores, the werewolf stepped back into a doorway and melted into the shadows, where the big black dog stood his ground and scanned the skies. It took a minute for Voldemort and his familiar, Nagini, to land by the monument in the center of Piccadilly Circus. Padfoot noted with relief that he was downwind of them. The snake might be able to taste him in the air. For that matter, when he got a good look at how Voldemort's appearance had become so snake-like, he wondered if the lunatic might now be able to taste the air with his tongue, too. With as much stealth as his canine form could manage, he slowly and cautiously walked toward the odd pair.

Voldemort took a very deep breath as he surveyed the chaos. He could smell the fossil fuels the muggles loved so, as the gasoline spilled from the ruptured gas tanks of their cars, and there had been fires, he could smell that, too. And death – he did not need Nagini to confirm that quite a few muggles had perished in the wreckage before him. His heart swelled as he spotted bloody muggle bodies in smashed cars, muggles under cars and busses, and a few even pinned between vehicles and against buildings. He felt a momentary pang of regret. He could imagine the sounds of the crashes, all these silly alarms muggles were so fond of going off, and the crackling of fires, but it was silent now. He consoled himself with the thought that there would not have been the sounds of screaming, shrieking muggles, because they had already been asleep and silent when all this happened. If he had missed that, he truly would have been despondent. This scene of destruction had been a silent one in terms of the sounds of human anguish that he loved so, so viewing it several days after the event did not omit that much of the pleasure of the experience.

Voldemort began to walk around the center of the roundabout, to cherish every gory detail in the tableau he had created, stopping short with a sharp intake of breath when he spotted a large black dog sitting on his haunches and watching him with enormous black eyes. He was so excited, he clapped in glee. "A Grim! How splendid! What a fortuitous omen – a dark blessing for my work!" Nagini was also inspecting the black dog, her tongue flicking the air rapidly. "Master, this is not a dog; this creature has magic."

"Well, of course, it has magic! It's the Grim! The harbinger of death, come to admire the death and destruction that I have wrought here." With glowing pride and enthusiasm, Voldemort addressed himself to the dog, who had now risen and was calmly and slowly approaching him. "I've given you a bit of business, haven't I, my friend?" he asked, as he gestured expansively around him. The Grim wagged its tail, to Voldemort's obvious delight. "But you must not be impatient! I see that many of the muggles and probably some wizards became your charges as soon as I induced them to go to sleep, with crashes and falls and fires, but the ones who live still are sleeping and they will not wake. They will probably last not more than another day or two before the lack of water will bring about their ends. They'll be dying soon, in droves! And it will be a much different, much better world when I'm through. There are some wizards I will spare, so the magical race will survive. But none of these vermin, the muggles. And just a hand-chosen group of those with magic – those who are of pure blood and strong magic, and who have been granted my favor. It will be a glorious new world, with everyone in it working in harmony, toward the goals that I identify."

Voldemort had fallen into step beside the Grim as it ambled past him, and now the man reached down to stroke the back of the fearsome beast and scratch it lightly behind its ears, earning some further tail wags for his efforts. He laughed his chilling laugh, which went silent as soon as the snake hissed something in his ear, at which point he abruptly stopped and turned. Padfoot momentarily panicked when he realized that Voldemort had spotted Mooney. Another ugly laugh erupted from the madman. "Oh, this gets better and better! Who ever saw a feral werewolf, in broad daylight, in the middle of all these muggles! He must be having himself a field day, almost as good as yours, my friend!"

Padfoot gave momentary thought to bolting and chasing after Mooney, which he thought would be in character for a Grim, but he noticed that Voldemort was walking toward an entrance to the Underground. He remembered hearing Ministry teams being dispatched to gather sleeping muggles from the subway platforms, so he started barking in frantic warning. He feigned interest in a particularly awful-looking wreck, hoping to distract Voldemort from the Underground entrance. It worked momentarily, as Voldemort mistakenly assumed that the barking and prancing was because death had just claimed another victim in the car. But Voldemort delayed only long enough to offer yet another celebratory scratch behind the ears. "Good boy! What fun you are having today! Come, if you wish, I want to see what may have happened down in the muggle Underground!" He was going to go into the subway station.

Mooney had revealed himself hoping to give Padfoot the chance to bolt after him, and when Padfoot did not come to him, he stayed close behind and kept track of what was happening with Padfoot.,using the the ultra-sensitive hearing that his magical animagus form provided. Fortunately, he, too, had heard at least one team from the Ministry being dispatched to do their rescue work in the subways. Even more fortunately, he'd lived at times in cheap flats in the muggle world, in one flat in particular very near this spot. He'd used this Underground station himself many times, and knew how different entrances above ground fed into a common station beneath them. When Mooney heard Voldemort express his intention to go into the Underground station, he bolted into the nearest entrance himself. He could hear people down there, so he ran past the entrance barriers to the trains and followed the sounds. When he got close to those sounds, he transfigured back into Remus Lupin as he approached a rescue team. He did not want the sudden appearance of a werewolf to provoke screams. He found a rescue team levitating several muggles onto one of the main platforms, likely having collected them from smaller stations down the line. Signalling for silence with rapid, broad gestures, he grabbed Ron, the auror and the other wizard and pushed them gently but urgently down onto the platform with the sleeping muggles. Whispering, and turning their faces away from the stairway, he said "Close your eyes. Pretend that you are asleep, just like the muggles. NOW!" Remus did his animagus transformation as he stood up, just in time. Voldemort arrived on the platform to see a massive werewolf crouching over a half dozen sleeping muggles. Mooney cast the fiercest and most hostile glare he could manage, and bared his fangs. He was not sure if Voldemort would take hostile action against him. It had sounded aboveground as if the lunatic was in good humor, but who knew? Mooney just wanted to look as formidable as possible, and create the impression that he was about to attack sleeping muggles, in order to protect Ron and the others. He made a soft warning growl as he continued to eye Voldemort and Nagini with suspicion. Voldemort was, indeed, in an expansive mood. He bowed with an elegant flourish toward the looming, snarling werewolf, and with a chuckle, said "Far be it from me to stand between a hungry werewolf and his next meal! I thank you, good sir, for your help in hastening the demise of these sleeping vermin!" Padfoot had followed Voldemort into the Underground station, to his delight when he saw the dog again. With another scratch behind the dog's ears, he said "Ah, my friend, more work for you! These muggles appear to be about to end their time on this earth."

With an awful laugh, Voldemort turned and flew up the stairs and out of the Underground into the London sky. Padfoot ran out after him, to verify that he was gone, as the werewolf continued to stand guard over the sleeping muggles and terrified wizards. It was only when a black dog appeared coming down the stairs again, who in midstride transfigured into Sirius Black, that Mooney himself returned to the form of Remus Lupin, and he embraced his lover in strong arms.

"He's left the area?"

A beaming Sirius, long curly locks bouncing, nodded affimatively.

"What on earth were you thinking, walking along with him?"

"It seemed to be a good idea at the time."

"I'll deal with you, later."

Together, Sirius and Remus helped the three wizards stand and brush themselves off. Ron warmly hugged the two men in gratitude, which seemed to put the other two at some ease. They knew Ron was a good friend of Harry Potter's and assumed that these two were, as well. The Auror noted that he'd seen them in the group at the Ministry, but had not seen them leaving as part of a Ministry team. All Ministry teams had at least one Auror or Ministry worker; this particular team had two because one of the Hogwarts students was part of the team. Remus explained that he and Sirius had thought about joining a Ministry team, but decided that they could contribute more by continuing their private work. The Auror grimaced. In his considered opinion, these rank amateurs were creating unnecessary problems in an already difficult situation with their well-meaning but foolhardy "private" excursions. Before he could get into an argument with the two over their foolish behavior, Ron asked the question that was on the mind of the other of his two companions: "Was that You-Know-Who who just came in here?" To the nods of Sirius and Remus, the Auror's jaw went slack, the other wizard keeled over in a dead faint, and Ron, with a big grin, said "Wicked!"

"Did they issue you portkeys to return to the Ministry?" Sirius asked.

The Auror produced a handful of medalions. "The silver ones take injured muggles and wizards straight to St. Mungos, and the gold ones will bring us right to the Ministry. The copper one – we each have one – vibrates in our pockets if there is a problem and if that happens, we are to return to the Ministry at once."

"Good. We need to get back immediately, and should pull all the teams back, too. Muggles will keep another day. Voldemort is out and about – sightseeing the mess he's made. He is not aware that everyone with magic is awake, and that the muggles are sleeping in stasis, and we don't want him to find out, which could happen if he spots a team out working. Remus, can you carry that poor sod?"

Remus picked up the wizard, who was still out cold, as if he was a small child, earning a curious look from the Auror. Together, Ron, Sirius and Remus touched the gold medalion held out by the Auror, and they were yanked off to the Ministry.

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry was growing restless and, to be honest, a bit bored. He had spent the morning up in his offices, working with the Headmaster, Severus and Hermione. The Headmaster had spent several very productive hours after he dispatched everyone else to bed. The connection that Harry had spotted between the passages in Salazar Slytherin's Dark and Light notebooks was borne out by his further study, and he'd spent some further time consulting some of the books on bondage that Hermione had found in the Malfoy Manor Library, and the pensieved memories Severus had provided of the Death Eater initation rituals. He had asked Harry to review several passages from the two notebooks with him, discussing the way they were worded, trying to wring every iota of meaning from them, so Harry had re-translated them, and then discussed each translation in great detail with the others. As he worked last night, the Headmaster had begun to sketch out some theorems, and he had at least three parchments covered in ancient runes and what looked like mathematical calculations. Severus had begun to review them, and Hermione patiently awaited her turn. Harry took a look at what had caught their attention, and shook his head: just as the books written in Parseltongue apparently looked like doodles to them, these parchments were nearly as unintelligible to him. When he'd retranslated the key passages, and defended and reverified his translations a second time, the others finally seemed to accept that they had as much information from the notebooks as they were going to get, and they began discussing Dumbledore's theories and ideas. Harry assumed that when they finished, they'd have a spell or charm that he could cast to block the drain from the Dark Mark, or maybe even remove it altogether, and some way of delivering that to those who bore the Mark, hopefully not one witch or wizard at a time, and some way not requiring said witch's or wizard's cooperation. Until they reached that point, though, there was really nothing that Harry could do or contribute, and it made him edgy to sit there and watch and listen to a discussion that he simply did not understand.

"I think I'll nip on down to the greenhouses, and see how Neville's doing."

Severus looked up, and nodded in understanding. "I'll come for you as soon as we have some plans."

As Harry exited the castle and started walking down the path that led to the greenhouses, he marveled at the number of people out and about around the grounds. Even with so many students volunteering to assist with the Ministry rescues, and working in the dungeons on potions, there were still so many people still at Hogwarts! He was about halfway to his destination, when a voice called to him from behind. "Oy, Harry, wait up!"

To Harry Potter's surprise, another young man, tall with reddish hair, who had been walking just a few feet ahead of him, had turned at the call too. Neville was still a distance away, as the two Harry's regarded each other. The taller boy approached him, hand out to shake Harry's in greeting. "Hi, I gather you are Harry Potter, as I've seen some pictures of you. Nice to meet you, and thanks for waking us all up." Harry was a bit shocked, as he realized that he recognized this other boy, also named Harry, from the limited access he'd had to newspapers and television programs back in the muggle world. "Nice to meet you, too, sir."

The prince chuckled at the "sir." "Harry, you're the royalty in this world, not me. I'm surprised that you recognize me. Most real wizards have no idea who I am."

"Well, I grew up in the muggle, that is, non-magical, world. I only learned that I was a wizard when I was eleven, so I have seen you in newspapers and the odd program on television. I think I heard that you and your brother are squibs?"

The two boys chatted until Neville had caught up to them, and Harry made the introductions. It was clear to the amusement of both Harrys that as a result of Neville's wizarding upbringing, he had no idea who the other boy was, and it was clear to Harry Potter that his new acquaintance liked it that way. Wishing the young man a good day, Harry and Neville headed down to Professor Sprout's office, which Neville was using as his staging ground for managing the greenhouses. The little office was nestled into a space where the castle, a castle wall and the greenhouses converged, so that Professor Sprout could get to her Hufflepuffs, and to her plants, with equal ease and speed. The part of the office that was closest to the greenhouses looked more like a potting shed than any office, and this was the area that Neville had taken for his work. He'd made up charts of what was growing where, what care it needed and with what frequency, what was needed at one times for potion production, and who was assigned to take care of what. It was quite impressive.

"Actually, Professor Sprout asked me to leave the charts when this is all over. She kept most knowledge of what was going on down here in her head. It took me a day or so to gather this all in one place, but now that I have it, it's ever so easy to keep track of things, and it should work for her too. I've also worked up some charts about her "squib squad" so she knows what they've been taught to do. Makes it easier for her to not have to teach them all something new every day, and I think they are happier when they can start to learn better how to handle things. It was a bit noisy down here at first when they were all terrified of everything, but now most of them are getting comfortable with at least one plant or task."

The two visited for a while, but eventually Neville had to get out to the greenhouses to check on things. "Can I come along? I don't want to go back to the castle yet." Neville nodded at that request, and together they started walking through the greenhouses, as Neville pointed out and then made notes in a little book he carried of the things that needed doing – a plant in need of a larger pot, several plants that needed pruning, a few that should be fed a pork chop that evening and others that could do with a nice steak. Harry had taken the required Herbology classes, but had never spent more than the absolute minimum time down in the greenhouses, so he'd never seen most of this stuff and had never learned some of the more advanced care that Neville clearly had. "I'm really impressed with how much you know about this, Neville. The Herbology classes we took did not even hint of all these other plants and things that a herbologist needs to know."

"Actually, Harry, the required classes here only touch the surface. When you start to study for OWLs or NEWTs, you need to spend time here with the plants and work with them, because you just can't get the level of detail you need with textbooks." They had arrived at a row of tall plants that seemed to be conspiring among themselves to thwart efforts to harvest their mature leaves. Once it was clear that neither Neville nor Harry had designs on their foliage, the plants calmed a bit at their end of the row, although there was someone working down the way who was definitely going after those leaves, and they redirected all their efforts at that poor soul. "One of the squibs was tasked with harvesting the leaves here – they are a basic ingredient in a nerve-regenerating potion that's been needed a great deal – she had a really bad time of it the first day and was fussing something awful, but once she got the hang of it, I think she'd be upset if we asked her to do something else. That's why I'm trying to help Professor Sprout keep the assignments straight." As Neville described the plants and the efforts to harvest their leaves, Harry was too intent on looking at them for the details Neville pointed out to see who was in the row, and he looked up with a start and sharp intake of breath when he found himself face to face with Aunt Petunial

Harry recovered from the surprise first. "Aunt Petunia, have you met Neville Longbottom? He's one of my classmates, and he's managing the greenhouses for Professor Sprout. Nevilled, this is my aunt, Petunia Dursley." She seemed reluctant to even open her mouth (a first, in Harry's book), but muttered a fast hello as she extracted her hand from a dragonskin glove and reached out to shake the young man's hand. They both noted the way she wiped that hand on her sleeve before retuning it to the safety of the glove. While Harry had seen Petunia only last night, he felt he should speak to her for a few moments, and Neville moved along, telling Harry that he'd look for him at lunch.

"So, it appears that you recovered from your shock. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. I was able to return to my dormitory to sleep last night."

"Adjusting to life in a magic castle? I heard it was a house elf that startled you. They can be a bit scary the first time you see them, can't they?

Petunia eyed Harry with suspicion. Why was he being civil to her? He was still a freak, but he did look a bit different, now that she had the chance to look at him in broad daylight. Something was different. He looked different, but she could not put her finger on it. Beyond that, he carried himself differently here. Not the meek, whiny, almost subservient little brat he always was at Privet Drive. He seemed to have confidence in himself. Well, at least some of all the discipline and guidance given by Vernon and herself, to say nothing of the fine example that her Dudders provided, must have finally borne fruit! She was not going to allow him to think though that anything was fundamentally different just because they were at his school rather than her home. Oh, that would never do!

"How quickly can we get out of this place? I want to take my Vernon and Dudley and leave as soon as possible, back to where normal people are." Her statement was followed by a loud hiccup, and Harry tried to hide his smile. He surmised that statement was not sufficiently negative to summon a loud belch or fart, but negative enough to merit a loud hiccup. Severus had really outdone himself with that spell!

Harry did not rise to the bait. "Aunt Petunia, many of us are working as hard as we can to get you back to your life, but it will be at least several months until the sleeping spells wear off, and there is nothing we can do to hasten that. Right now, we are doing all that we can to keep the sleeping people safe while they sleep, and to get the muggle world back to where it was, as best we can. There are things we have to repair, and things we have to keep going, so the world is as much like you left it when the muggles awake. I assure you, we are not dawdling. At least while you are here, you are fed and housed. This really is such a fascinating world. So many things look familiar, just like what you knew in the muggle world, but they are totally different here. Even if you plan to go right back to your muggle existence when it is time to leave, I'd hope you'd want to experience just some of the uniqueness of this world, one that so many just don't ever have the chance to see."

Harry paused to look at her with his startling green eyes blazing. Petunia looked at him, and it hit her. That was it – where were his eyeglasses? Had he wasted money to buy contact lenses? Certainly she and Vernon were not going to pay for such an extravagance for this worthless brat! He spoke again. "Actually, Aunt Petunia, you could have a place in this world. If you choose to walk the path toward a magical life, I can see that it could be a very pleasant and gratifying existence for you. It will be your choice, one you do not have to make now, but think on it. The time will come when you need to decide, and you will have just one chance to do so."

"What crazy nonsense is this? What are you going on about? I want absolutely nothing to do with this magical world, and cannot fathom how life among the freaks (with her comment punctuated by a very noisy fart) could be anything but excruciating, not gratifying! Why on earth are you talking like that? You sound crazy!" To Petunia's surprise, Harry never flinched when she spoke harshly to him, and he made no attempt to placate her or apologize. He regarded her calmly, which only infuriated her more, and her prior habits kicked in. She raised a hand to slap Harry across the face for his impudence, when he casually waved his hand, and she found that she could not move her arm at all. Try as she might, her arm hung limply at her side, and she could not get it to move. She looked at Harry with her rage building, her eyes bulging, and that vein in her temple pulsing, and he had the audacity to just look back at her, no cowering or apologizing. He seemed utterly unpetrubed, as he smiled and just turned away.

"How dare you just walk away from me, young man! Come back here this instant and undo whatever it is you did to my arm! You impertinent bastard! (punctuated here by a rumbling belch) I'll tell Vernon when he wakes up! You won't see a scrap of food, or be able to sit, for a week when you have to come back to Privet Drive this summer, just you wait and see!

Harry turned back just briefly, taking just the time to cast a silencing spell, and he resumed his calm stroll back to the castle. Nothing Petunia said bothered him. He'd seen the paths that would be open to her, and was amazed that someone so antagonistic to magic might find her true happiness amid that which she now so vocally despised.

He'd always thought that his life was a three-ring circus, but this possible future for his aunt was mind-boggling.


	8. Ch 85 Erasures

Chapter 85 - Erasures

Severus smiled inwardly as he went over Albus' calculations for the third time. The old coot, for all his lemon drops and twinkly-eyed interactions with staff and students, was one smart wizard. He had done an excellent job deconstructing the Dark Mark. As Harry had thought, Voldemort's approach in creating his Mark was based entirely on the work he found preserved in Salazar Slytherin's Dark notebooks. Every element of the ritual associated with taking the Mark was accounted for in these notebooks. He and Harry had reviewed all the notebooks and created a small index of the subjects covered, and then Harry had obligingly translated all that seemed to have even tangential relevance to the Dark Mark and its ritual. This morning, after Albus had spent what might have been all night working with the material, he'd sat with Harry for a further few hours to metculously review each translation, looking for any obscure nuance that might have escaped them.

Once again, Severus was surprised by Harry's response to that, although by now, truth be told, it should not have been a surprise. Harry's bias toward action over reflection pretty much assured that he would never be one of the towering intellects of their daymm but he could focus when necessary. He did not chafe or bristle under the Headmaster's questioning, but took them all through the source material almost word by word. Albus led the questioning, but he and Miss Granger had the chance to listen and ask their own questions. It was only once each of the three was satisfied that every iota of meaning had been wrested from the ancient notebooks that the three began to discuss Albus' late night work on ways to counter the magic behind the Dark Mark. At this point, Harry had gotten predictably bored and antsy, and it wasn't too long thereafter that he went off to visit Neville.

Albus had devised several theories about countering the magic of the Dark Mark, drawn primarily from the translation of the material in the Light notebook and several of the books that Lucius Malfoy had assembled (and hidden) in his very private library. All agreed that the source material was on point, and that directionally, Albus' work was solid, but he and Hermione had spotted a few areas where some tweaking appeared to be in order.

By the early afternoon, all their hard work had produced a spell which all agreed seemed reasonably likely to counter the Dark Mark. Albus felt that the spell would sever the connection between a wizard and Voldemort, rendering it useless as a way for Voldemort to reach out and summon his Death Eaters, or for him to draw power from them. Hermione agreed with that, but her interpretation of the magic that affixed the Dark Mark caused her to think that the Mark itself would dissipate when its bindings were removed. Severus declined to take a position on that, not really sure if his desperate hope to be rid of thie cursed Mark would blind him to errors in the scholarship that led to that conclusion.

Practce castings by Hermione were analyzed by Albus and Severus, and they concluded that the spell would not injure the caster or the one to whom it was directed, although there was some concern that they could not predict exactly how the Dark Mark itself would respond to the spell as its magic was neutralized. Lots of theory, lots of speculation, but it was now time to test it all out.

Severus went to unbutton his jacket to bare his forearm, but Albus stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. "No, my boy. Your Mark is warded as it is, and we will need to undo that warding first before we could attempt to use this spell on you. I don't want to leave you exposed, especially if we need to do further work on the spell. Once we know that we have a viable spell, we will take the chance to unward your Mark."

The younger man looked a bit put out by that, but had to agree that he enjoyed a measure of protection in the warded coils, and it would be wasteful of the time it took to provide that protection to simply remove it for a test that might not work. "We do have two students here who bear the Mark, and I believe that there are 40 or 50 Death Eaters now at Malfoy Manor for treatment as Lucius' guests. Perhaps one of them would be willing to volunteer?"

"I would prefer that we not test a spell on a student at this school. It would be best to use an adult wizard who has volunteered. I know that there are Death Eaters at Lucius' home, but I do not want to take the risk of disclosing to them the connection between his home and this office by bringing them here, let alone inviting known Death Eaters who might still be loyal to Voldemort to Hogwarts. Might we go there?"

"We can floo to the library there and invite volunteers to join us in the library to test the spell. I'm sure Lucius will not mind, and expect there will be no shortage of willing volunteers."

Albus tried to discourage Hermione from going to Malfoy Manor, but as she cheekily pointed out, she was the fresher between him and her, as she'd gotten sleep while the Headmaster was up all night, and they did not want Professor Snape to participate in the casting lest his own Dark Mark interefere. She was clearly not going to be left behind, and on reflection, it was actually quite necessary that she go with them.

When the three had settled into the front of the Library, Severus went to the ballroom that was now the infirmary to ask the mediwizards to identify those among their charges who were in good enough condition to make an informed decision to volunteer to be the subject of an experimental spell casting. Several had already recovered to the extent that they had relocated to various guest rooms in the Manor, and a house elf gathered Lucius and these other wizards to meet with Severus to discuss what was needed. All of them were most enthusiastic and willing to participate, but Lucius claimed the honor of being the first test subject, insisting that as he was the most recovered of the group, he was best able to take the risk of the first casting of a new spell. Severus thought, but wisely did not say, that this also enabled Lucius to be the first to be free of the burden of the Mark, as well. Severus was also looking forward to seeing the look on Lucius' face when he found out that the person who was to cast this most awaited of spells was none other than Miss Granger. He led Lucius and two of the mediwizards, who asked to observe, off to the library.

While Severus was sure that he saw a flicker of some very negative emotion cross Lucius' face when Albus stepped aside and it became clear that Hermione was going to cast the spell, the man's impressive sang froid won out and he maintained his haughty manner as he bared his forearm for her. For her part, Hermione was oblivious to everything but the complicated spell she was to cast, using all her power and focus. Severus and Albus took up positions on both sides, as she faced Lucius, who held out his arm. The mediwizards stood off to the sides, looking on with interest.

Long moments passed as Hermione wove her wand in the air above Lucius' arm in an extraordinarily complicated pattern, while intoning the spell that the three of them had devised. As she concluded the incantation, she pointed her wand at the Dark Mark and focused all of her power there. Slowly, a thread of light snaked from her wand to the Mark, and as she held her wand steady, the light grew brigher, finally gleaming brightest white. To those who had viewed the ritual that created the Dark Mark, it was an interesting counterpoint, because in the process of affixing the Mark, a very similar set of intricate wand movements, followed by a similar focus of magical energy was used, although instead of bright, white light, a jet of blackness appeared. The light from the spell that Hermione cast glowed white for a full minute before it began to slowly fade away.

When she lowered her wand at the end of the casting, all five wizards leaned forward to inspect Lucius' forearm. The Mark was still in place, although it had already faded significantly and seemed to be lightening further as the moments passed. One of the mediwizards began casting his own diagnostic spells at Lucius, who looked uncommonly pale, even by the standards that applied to the etherial Malfoys. All his vital signs seemed fine, but at the moment the the Mark faded into oblivion on his arm, he passed out. Severus and Albus caught him, and lowered him into a chair. While the mediwizards attended to him, Albus cast diagnostic spells of his own, and just as Lucius' ice-blue eyes flickered open a few moments later, he pronounced that the magical bond between Lucius and Voldemort had been severed. "Congratulations, Miss Granger! You did it! Lucius, your Dark Mark is gone, as is the connection it created between you and Voldemmort."

Lucius could not help but flinch when Albus used the name, but an enormous smile that looked shockingly genuine graced his face. On slightly wobbly legs, he stood up as he continued to admire his now-unblemished forearm, and took a deep, centering breath. He had dreamed of this moment for years now. While he did subscribe to most of the Dark Lord's original agenda, at least in the past, he had always bristled at the manner it was used to summon him like a servant to the Dark Lord's side, and he had never imagined that it might be used to drain his power. How bizarre that this outcome was achieved at the hand of a mudblood. Reminding himself that the world had changed drastically in the past several months, he concluded that it wasn't bizarre at all. Swallowing back his pride, and with a slight bow in her direction, Lucius finally said "Thank you, Miss Granger."

He was escorted out by the mediwizards as Severus, Albus and Hermione took seats at a small table and erupted in an analysis of how the spell had worked, what might be done differently, and why did Lucius faint at the end. They eventually moved on to a discussion of whether it would be possible to perform this spell to removed the Marks of more than one Death Eater at a time. After nearly an hour of vigorous debate and several practice castings to review the technique, several tweaks had been made. Severus went to gather two Death Eaters from the group waiting with the mediwizards in the infirmary. They were asked to sit at the table, rather than stand, in case the solution for the fainting was not right yet. This time, Albus was going to do the casting. He took aim at their extended arms, sweeping rather than pointing his wand at their arms. The same white light poured out of his wand to their arms. Neither wizard lost consciousness as the spell progressed, although the fading took a bit longer. At the end, though, the mediwizards were able to confirm their satisfactory health and Albus, the end of their connection to Voldemort.

A further conversation ensued as those two Death Eaters were escorted out, with still more refinements and suggestions made. As Severus stood to fetch more Death Eaters for the next casting, Hermione reached out her hand and took his arm. "Professor, I think it is time that we dealt with your Mark." Recognizing a protest beginning to form on his lips, she quickly went on "We need you to cast the spell, and your own Mark might interfere with that. Please, allow me to remove your Mark, and perhaps we can try some joint castings next."

Severus had indeed been about to insist that they not dawdle with his Mark, which after all, was warded and blocked to a certain degree. However, he had to acknowledge that this was a powerful spell and was no doubt draining on her power, and Hermione had already cast it once, as had Albus. It might not be possible to do this without him. It would also help in the refinements, he was sure, if they had input from three people who had cast the spell who could compare notes on their experiences. He was persuading himself that it did make sense for him to allow her to remove his Mark next when it occurred to him that this was a surprisingly Slytherin manoeuver for a Gryffindor. Once again, he wished someone had issued a manual on Gryffindors, as at least the ones he was with seemed to have no end of surprises for him.

He removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his white linen shirt, baring his forearm, which he stretched on the table. The silver coils gleamed in the light and obscured the Mark beneath them. Albus cast several spells to remove the ward first, and then a spell to remove the coils. Almost as if it resented the indignity of its impotence under the ward and coils, Severus' Mark looked raw and inflamed, and the flesh around it was puffy. Hermione was glad that this was to be a straightforward casting with nothing new, because from the looks of things there, it would need all her focus and power.

It did.

This time, the light from her wand to the Mark built up very slowly, taking nearly twice as long as the others did to get to the same level of brightness, but it did not stop there. The light continued to build until it was almost blinding, and then it lasted for over a minute until it finally faded.

Severus did not faint, but he sagged in his chair as he felt something change in his magic. It was an odd feeling, but after it passed, he felt a surge within himself, a new or maybe just remembered strength. He did not dare to look at his arm yet. He looked instead at Albus, who was busy casting his various spells. Finally, the old wizard returned Severus' look, his face beaming. It was only then that Severus dared to steal a glance at his forearm, now gloriously free of the hated Mark. He stared for a long moment in wonder.

"Thank you, both of you. Of everything I've done in my life, accepting that Mark was the thing I regretted the most. I am glad to be rid of it."

It was nearing dinnertime. "I think it would be a good idea to go back to Hogwarts for dinner. We can brief Harry after dinner and then all return here. We need to see which of us can cast this spell as well as Miss Granger, and then consider various possibilities to help us broadcast it, maybe even tonight."

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry had eventually returned to his offices after lunch, since everyone else was busy. Whether the others were there or not, he wanted to translate the volumes that they'd gotten from Malfoy Manor. He knew that would have to be returned, and while he wasn't sure what was in all those notebooks, this seemed like a once-in-a-lifetime chance to collect the knowledge that Salazar Slytherin had put into his writings. It had to be worth the effort. The dictation spell that Severus had come up with was aces, as far as Harry was concerned, as he thought back to how long it had taken him to translate the book he'd given Severus for Christmas.

He started when the floo in the room activated, as Hermione, followed by the Headmaster and then Severus returned. Harry noticed Hermione's eyes shining, and fearing that those were unshed tears, he braced himself for bad news.

"Ah, my boy, good to see you here! We have had a most productive day, and I hope we have an even more productive night. Our spell worked! Miss Granger and I both cast it successfully at Malfoy Manor."

Harry's neutral expression gave way to a big, excited grin. His eyes sought out Severus' with the question clear in them – is your Mark gone? The smile on Severus' face gave him his answer. With a whoop, Harry launched himself into Severus' arms, and for a brief moment, Albus and Hermione were treated to the most unusual sight of Severus twirling his giggling bondmate around the room in a hug. Eventually, one of them remembered that they had an audience, and they broke apart. Severus tried to regain his dignity by straightening his jacket and adjusting his cuffs, but Harry was still celebrating. He immediately grabbed Hermione in a hug, which she returned enthusiastically.

The Headmaster had glanced at the parchments accumulating on the table as Harry worked on his translations, but then turned his attention back to the others, and he was practically clapping with glee at the sight of all this celebrating. Patting Harry and Hermione on the back, he said "It's such a rare treat to see a celebration like this these days – Well done all around!" He put his arms around their shoulders and begn to walk them to the door, trusting that Severus would follow. "I think we should take a break for some refreshment, and return here after dinner. We still need to work out logistics for casting this spell on a broader basis, and we need to be rested and fresh for that."

Dinner was delayed for the group. Out on the landing between the Headmaster's and Harry's offices, they found Minister Bones, Kingsley Shacklebolt, along with Ron, Remus and Sirius. The Minister had a stern look on her face, which made Harry feel very uneasy, although he did not see corresponding guilty expressions on the faces of the others, so maybe this was not too bad.

"May we have a word with you, Albus? All of you, I suppose?"

Albus genially proposed that they step into his office, observing that the group had been working in Harry's offices and were just taking a break for dinner, so there was a bit of a mess in there. He was actually thinking of Harry's translations of the Dark notebook that were sitting on the table. Even from the very quick glance he'd had of the material, it was clear to him that the magic of which Salazar wrote in his Dark notebooks was the darkest he'd seen in his long life. A small internal debate was underway. Ought he simply burn those books and ask Harry to stop translating them, hoping that the darkness they contained would vanish in the flames? Or was that unreasonable – maybe someone else knew some of that magic, and this information might someday be needed by those of Light to counter an evil wizard? Would it taint Harry in some way to even do the translations? Maybe keep the books in their original Parseltongue and burn the translations? But presumably there would be another Parselmouth in the future, and maybe it would not be good to keep this knowledge for their exclusive use, if no one else could read it. Or, maybe put both the Parseltongue books and the English translations down in the Chamber of Secrets? Wherever he eventually came out on this issue, right now, it was clear that there were several scrolls of parchment on that table, in very clear English and in a legible hand, that discussed some of the most shockingly dark magic that had ever been committed to parchment. The LAST thing Albus wanted to do was to explain that to the Minister of Magic and one of her Aurors.

The group settled into the chairs and sofas around the fireplace in the Headmaster's office, with Albus and Madam Bones occupying the comfortable chairs at hearthside, and the others perched on assorted sofas and occassional chairs. "Professor Dumbledore, I understand that Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black chose not to join in the Ministry's Operation Safe Harbor today, but went on their own to central London." That did not surprise anyone in the room. Remus might have gone along with something that tame, but the name of the operation alone virtually guaranteed that Sirius would refuse to participate. "While there, they encountered You Know Who, who apparently was out and about inspecting his handiwork. You Know Who ventured into the muggles' Piccadilly Underground station, to which we had dispatched one of our Ministry teams. Mr. Lupin's quick intervention enabled the Ministry team to escape detection by posing as sleeping muggles about to be bitten by a werewolf. When they got back to the Ministry, Mr. Black alerted the leaders of Operation Safe Harbor, and we were able to recall all our teams without incident. Unfortunately [and here Severus smirked – with the mongrel, an "unfortunately" was almost a given in any story] there was an Auror on the Ministry team, a good man but very "by the book," if you know what I mean, who thought he'd overheard Mr. Black say something that caused him to believe that Mr. Black had been in animagus form, as he knew Mr. Lupin had been. He checked the Ministry registry and did not see Mr. Black's name, and he arrested him for being an unregistered animagus. Mr. Shacklebolt learned of this, and alerted me. We have ascertained that the Auror never actually saw Mr. Black in other than his human form, but was acting based on what he thought he overheard, so we were able to have the charges dropped in their entirety."

Sirius looked inordinately pleased with himself at the telling of the story and Remus looked thoroughly annoyed with Sirius.

"If there is a need to register anyone here as an animagus, Mr. Shacklebolt reminded me of a process for a sealed registration. Normally, the registration would be filed with the Ministry and warded against being available to anyone but the Minister of Magic. I realize that recent incumbents in this office might make one wonder about the confidentiality of that process. However, given Mr. Potter's unique status, we think a sealed registration could be placed on file with him, and should we at the Ministry ever have need of it, we would request it. Just a thought. And, should you need it, here is the paperwork that should be prepared and placed under ward." With a flick of her wand, the woman caused a pile of six parchment scrolls to materialize before them, and she gently levitated them over to Sirius, who at least had the grace to thank her for the excellent suggestion. Her official business thus concluded, the Minister stood and with a nod to Albus, and a wink directed to Harry, she proceded back to the Ministry via floo.

All eyes went to Sirius. Severus suspected that he and Lupin were sharing the same thought – how the dog loved to be the center of attention! Sirius told the story of falling in with Voldemort as he and his nasty snake were strolling along in Piccadilly Circus, admiring automobile wrecks and mangled bodies. He explained that Voldemort mistook him for the Grim, and boasted of the new world he was in the process of creating. To his credit, Sirius did return from this foolhardy adventure with news that helped his friends – Voldemort had not yet realized that everyone with magic was already awake, and that those without magic were sleeping under a stasis spell. He seemed to expect the deaths to occur starting in a day or two, maybe a bit longer for witches and wizards. Hopefully, with the withdrawal of the Ministry teams from the field as soon as Sirius had warned the Ministry leaders, he remained unaware for enough time now for his power source to be totally disrupted.

Hermione looked at Ron. "How were you involved here?" The redhead was another who craved attention, although he tended to get far less than the engaging Sirius. "I was on the Ministry team that was collecting the muggles from underground stations. We'd just brought three muggles to the platform when Remus signalled us to be quiet, lie down next to the muggles, and pretend that we were sleeping, too. I gather that Remus transfigured into Mooney, because we could hear growling above us and a very strange voice, very "hissy", talking to him, about not denying him a meal. Then the voice spoke to someone else, calling him 'my friend,' and a few minutes later, we were told it was all clear and we got up. Remus and Sirius told us that had been You Know Who who'd come into the station."

Hermione looked absolutely horrified that Ron had been in such danger, but he seemed to relish the story he could tell as a result.

Harry was curious, asking "Sirius, what on earth possessed you to approach Voldemort at all?" "Padfoot does look quite a bit like the Grim, you know, and he was certain as soon as he saw me that I was the Grim come to revel in all the death. He seems to like dogs. Even if he didn't, or if he suspected that I was something other than a Grim, Padfoot is very strong and nimble, and I was very sure I could dodge anything he tried to throw at me." Pretty much everyone in the room was giving him a strange look. That was enormously risky, and just to see if he could pull it off? He had no idea if he'd learn anything useful, and he could have been killed.

Harry then asked Remus about his role. "When I saw Padfoot romping along with Voldemort, I transfigured into Mooney and showed myself. Sirius could have chased after me; I figured that Voldemort would expect that sort of behavior from a Grim and not give it further thought. After all, a werewolf wandering among all those sleeping muggles would be spreading death at a quick clip. When he didn't come to me, I figured he felt safe doing what he was doing and wanted to continue, so I just fell back to stay out of sight, but stayed as Mooney so I could hear better. When I heard Voldemort say he was going to look into the subway, I bolted down another entrance to check if there were Ministry teams working there, and I did find one. I wasn't sure if Voldemort would challenge a werewolf, but he seemed captivated by the havoc that I could be wreaking on top of the mess he'd made, and he was almost pleased to see Mooney crouching over the sleeping bodies. The appearance of the Grim behind him on the stairs seemed to reinforce his perception, and he was very pleased with the world when he flew out of the station."

"So you're sure Voldemort doesn't realize I've woken everyone with magic, and we've got all the sleeping muggles under a stasis spell?" Harry asked.

"I don't think the old buzzard had a clue when I saw him. The only risk is that he might have gone somewhere after he left us, where he might have seen wizards and witches going about their business. Have you felt his anger?" Sirius replied.

"No. And I expect Voldemort will be plenty angry when he finds out. So – we have to act tonight. We can't risk him taking another trip tomorrow and seeing someone awake."

Remus looked puzzled. "What action are you talking about, Harry?"

Albus beamed at everyone in the room. "We have developed a spell that will remove the Dark Mark from the Death Eaters. Obviously, there are some who are very glad to be rid of it, and I assume others will be angry to discover that their connection to their Dark Lord has been severed. But the one who will most feel this loss is Voldemort. He'll no longer have access to any magical power but his own."

Sirius was looking at Severus, the big question clear on his face. Severus pondered just ignoring the dog, but finally nodded. "Yes, Black, my Mark is now gone." Sirius had an odd look on his face, like he could not decide if he was pleased or not, but Remus had no such inner misgivings, and warmly congratulated Severus on his Mark-free state.

Albus interrupted to shoo everyone off to dinner. "We all need a break and some refreshment. There is much to do tonight, and we will need our energy. I suggest that we meet here right after dinner. We need to see who else among us besides me and Miss Granger can cast this spell, and then work out the logistics for broadcasting the spell tonight."

When the group reassembled after dinner, it had grown by two: Ron invited Charlie to come along, and that of course meant that Draco was there as well. Hermione demonstrated the spell several times for the group. Severus had been working with her on it, so he stood and cast the spell, and was very pleased that it worked for him on the first go. Harry, despite his best efforts on half a dozen attempts, could not get the incantation and the wand movement synchronized right, and the spell failed every time. Sirius, Remus, Ron, Kingsley and Charlie passed on the invitation that they give it a try, but Draco was willing to attempt it. Despite his best efforts and ten attempts, the same synchonization problems that Harry had affected him as well, and he was not able to do it. He was clearly put out.

Albus seemed very pleased with the results, however. "Before we do any broadcasting of the spell, I want to go back to Malfoy Manor and see if we can accomplish anything in group casting. Do you remember when we cast the stasis spell, we had several of us casting an Iunctus spell to join all the casters together? I can show the rest of you the Iunctus spell, and you can use it to join and amplify our casting."

The mediwizards were pleased to see Albus, Severus and Hermione back, as once word got around their charges that the Hogwarts team had come up with a way to remove the Dark Mark, the excitement and tension in the Manor had reached a fever pitch. Albus briefed them on the plans to attempt a group casting from another room, and they got everyone seated in chairs or in their beds. The group from Hogwarts remained in the library, as Albus arranged all the casters in the appropriate places and gave instructions as to timing. He verified that all those not casting the spell to remove the Dark Mark could properly cast the Iunctus spell, and arranged them as well. At his signal, the three casting the removal spell began the incantation, and the others had been told to cast the Iunctus as soon as white light began to stream from their wands.

All went as planned. The white lights grew in intensity as they were joined and amplified, until there was a flash of white light that lingered for a minute or so and then slowly faded out. Everyone took a breath, and it was just moments later that a mediwitzard joined them with the happy news that every Dark Mark in the Manor had faded out with that casting. The group could not know, but actually, every Dark Mark in the county faded with that casting. The few wizards who bore the Mark but were not known to the other Death Eaters felt a bit lightheaded for a few minutes, but since their arms were encased in long sleeves, they were not aware that their forearms had been glowing with white light. More than a few were absolutely astonished when they prepared themselves for bed that night to see that for some reason the Dark Mark was no longer on their skin, and they were afraid that this signalled that they had somehow lost the favor of their Dark Lord, or that he abandoned them. Not everyone was completely pleased with the removal of the Dark Mark, after all.

The group returned to Hogwarts giddy with success and a feeling of accomplishment. Quite by accident, the fact that not all of them could master the intricate spell to remove the Mark had been a good thing, because some very strong wizards were then tasked with casting the Iunctus spell. With that level of power amplifying the very impressive strength of the casters, an amazingly strong spell was produced. Albus knew that the combination and strength of the magic with which he was working here was like nothing he'd ever encountered in his life, and his prior experiences with casting the Iunctus spell could not predict the power that would be generated here. He almost wished that there was not such urgency and pressure, because he would love to analyze and study this phenomena in a more leisurely manner. As it was, he made a quick bee-line to the parchments with Harry's translations of the Dark notebook and dispatched them and the notebooks to the warded cabinet in his office with a wave of his wand, before anyone had a chance to look them over or comment on his action.

As everyone took seats at the table, Harry summoned a house elf and requested tea, pumpkin juice and chocolate, for quick magical replenishment. Albus wondered aloud if it would be better to wait another hour or two, until midnight or later, to broadcast the spell, on the expectation that bearers of the Mark were likely to still be tired and most likely to be sleeping then. There was some argument back and forth, as some wanted to do it now, when they were fresher. Severus ended the discussion when he shared a comment that one of the mediwizards at Malfoy Manor had made to him. "The mediwizards told me that they had never seen such thorough depletion of magic as they had when working with the people at Malfoy Manor. They were weakened profoundly on a physical, as well as magical level. In all likelihood, the Marked Death Eaters are still sleeping twelve to fifteen hours a day, so the chances that one is up right now is small."

Albus nodded at that. "Let me work out some logistics and plans here, then, and we'll ask the warriors from the Winter Lands to accompany us outside the wards of the castle. Harry, I assume the same site we used to cast the stasis spell will be an appropriate entry into the ley lines for this spell?"

"I have to imagine that spot will be fine, Headmaster. That was clearly the place where the most ley lines intersected. I don't think ley lines move about, do you?" Albus had not ever considered that, but it seemed unlikely, and with a shrug, he shook his head. "Well, when we get down there, I'll check, and if we have to move a bit, we can."

It took Albus just a short while to devise his plan, and the group now walked through the silent castle, and out by the camp of the warriors. The warriors had begun to rotate in and out of Hogwarts, so some could tend to matters at home while others provided protection to the wizards at Hogwarts. The acting chief of the encampment now was a massive warrior nearly seven feet tall, with a broad, ruddy face, full beard, and thick golden hair plaited down the back. He welcomed Harry with much enthusiasm and warmth, and surprised the others with how much he knew of each of them. Special recognition was given to Charlie, as the warriors had heard that he was a dragon-tamer,. The warriors agreed that it was hard to imagine a more noble, dangerous and magical calling than to tame dragons. Charlie was never the sort to boast or seek recognition, but the sincerity of the respect shown by these fierce and talented warriors clearly moved him. When Albus asked the acting chief to assist them in another casting into the ley lines beyond the castle wards, every single warrior in the camp wanted to go to protect their king, and his biggest challenge was selecting the few who would have to remain behind and protect their camp.

Harry spent a few minutes walking around the area where they had done the prior casting to verify for himself that the spot he'd identified before remained the place that they wanted to cast, and when he was satisfied that it was, Sirius cast a charm to create a lflame at the spot toward which they should all aim.

Harry was tasked with casting the spell to invoke entry into the ley lines, and the original plan was for him to cast Regius Procuratio Per Obis Terrarum, and then step back and join the others behind the three casting the spell to remove the Dark Marks, to cast the Iunctus spell. On the first attempt, this did not work. The earth did not accept the spell as directed, which puzzled Severus, as the earth had obeyed Harry before. The white light from their wands simply hovered and disappated after a few seconds. After some further discussion, it was concluded that as Harry was not going to be casting the spell to remove the Dark Marks, he would continue casting the command to the earth while the others cast that spell. Albus rearranged the casters, placing Harry off to the side, and placing the others behind him, Severus and Hermione. Once everyone was in place, a second attempt was made. This time, the white light from the wands of the casters obliterated the flame with its brightness, and at the point that the light was so bright that it was painful to look at, it was sucked right down into the ley lines and dispersed. The only problem was that it appeared that this spell had a directional element to it. By their calculation, only about one eighth of the full circle of the globe received the casting; it did not broadcast any wider than that. Albus simply pivoted everyone around the circle, and kept exhorting them to keep at it, as they proceed to do the entire casting seven more times, sending the spell into the ley lines so that the entire globe was covered. They were all totally spent from the experience. After the first and second castings, it was still exciting and their adrenaline levels were high. By the time they got to the fifth and sixth castings, they were exhaused and wondering if it would be possible to do this even one more time, and by the eighth casting, they were all reaching inside for reserves none of them really expected that they had. The warriors each took a wizard or witch by the arm and assisted them back into the castle, where house elves hastily assembled some chairs and a goodly supply of chocolate to restore the magic of the group.

X X X X X X X X X X

In the headmaster's bedroom at Durmstrang Institute, Igor Karkaroff's sleep was so deep that it was not interrupted at all when a glow appeared to hover over his marked forearm, and then to slowly sink into it. His snoring was a bit uneven as his Mark faded out, with a rather sharp snort accompanying the point that it disappeared entirely. When the event was over, he rolled over onto his side, and sank further into his down bed, snoring a bit more softly laying on his side.

X X X X X X X X X X

The general noise of those already insane and those well on their way to insanity never really abated as Azkaban Prison out in the North Sea. To the wails and screams of the inmates was added the incessant pounding of massive waves against the rocky outcroping, which kept up day and night. This night, the noise reached unprecedented levels, as light appeared over the left forearms of dozens of inmates, scaring those with enough wits about them to recognize that emotion, and giving others something new, if not understood, to scream about. The noise level remained at his very high level for the entire time that the light appeared, but once the light faded from view, the attention of the inmates went elsewhere. Very few of them were focused enough to realize that the Marks on their forearms had disappeared. They might one day realize that something was different, but such a fine detail was largely beyond their comprehenision at this point. Dementors cannot see or hear wizards, and the noise did not really create more misery for anyone, so this event was never noticed by them. The wizard guards at Azkaban who administered the prison did not spend the night there, so they did not know of the light, or the noise, and it would be a long, long time before any of them got close enough to a prisoner to notice that some Dark Marks were gone.

X X X X X X X X X X

A light broke the darkness in Riddle Manor in Voldemort's bedroom. As was the case with others who were asleep when the light appeared, he was not awakened by it. In this case, the light did not have any impact on the Dark Mark on Voldemort's arm. The light faded away, leaving an unchanged Mark. The magic that Voldemort had used to create his own Mark was very different from magic invoked to place the Marks that he subsequently affixed to his Death Eaters' arms, and the spell that had been cast on the grounds just outside of Hogwarts was designed to address that other spell. Voldemort did not even stir as the darkness in his room was momentarily interrupted.

X X X X X X X X X X

As the group sitting in the foyer at Hogwarts gradually recovered from its gruelling casting work, Albus was already making plans to contact the Ministry. "Kingsley, if you are up to it, might you be able to get word to the Ministry that we've cast a spell to remove the Dark Mark from the arms of Death Eaters? Voldemort will not be able to call his Death Eaters, nor will he be able to draw on their power any longer. It might hasten his awareness that his plan was not successful, but it will also prevent him from recasting the sleeping spell as soon as he inevitably figures out what has happened. This is probably something that should be shared with other Ministries around the world, although that of course is for the Minister to decide." Kingsley was able to stand, albeit slowly, so he nodded to the others as he ambled off to the Ministry office across the lobby, where a floo was connected to the Ministry that would bring him to the night staff there.

Charlie also stood, and he reached out a hand to help Draco up, and the two of them bid the group good evening as they headed off to Charlie's rooms. Ron and Hermione joined them, trudging up to Gryffindor tower. Remus got to his feet, and pulled Sirius off the sofa where he was nearly sound asleep. He growled to the smaller man "I'll deal with you tomorrow – I am too tired tonight" as they walked off to their rooms.

Severus and Harry looked with some concern at the Headmaster, who was looking every single day of his hundred and fifty plus years. "Albus, might we summon Poppy to assist you? Or help you to your quarters?" As much as Albus was a proud and very independent man, he was also smart enough to realize that he was totally exhaused and truly in need of help to get upstairs. "A bit of a hand in getting to my quarters would not be amiss, Severus. I suggest that we use the floo in the Hufflepuff Common Room. It's a big floo, we can all go through together."

Severus took one of Albus' arms and Harry the other, as they slowly proceed down a few corridor to the entrance to the Hufflepuff quarters. The door opened immediately when the portrait recognized the Headmaster, and the group moved very quietly through the large room over to the fireplace. A few of the squibs from the dormitories were sitting at a table playing cards, and they looked up briefly at the sight of the three wizards using the floo. The wizards never looked over at them, but one recognized Harry and Severus and snorted derisively, followed by a hiccup.

After Severus lost an argument that he should summon Madam Pomfrey from the Infirmary immediately, he helped Albus into his bedroom and summoned Albus' favorite house elf to assit the old man in getting to bed. He collected Harry from the sitting room, and the two went by floo down to their quarters in the dungeons.

This was the first night since their bonding that Severus walked into his bedroom with Harry; had he not been so tired, he might have followed his usual practice of sitting by the fire for a bit to give Harry privacy as he prepared for bed. Harry did not offer any protest. Severus offered Harry the use of the bathroom first, and was surprised when the young man sat on the bed instead. His exhaustion was affecting him as would several large firewhiskeys, taking away inhibitions. "Severus, may I see your arm?" Slowly, and with no hesitation or modesty, Severus undid his robes and removed them, and then undid his linen shirt and removed it as well. Harry did take the offered arm and admire the unblemished skin, but then Harry's hands started exploring Severus' arm above the elbow, branching off to explore and massage the well-shaped shoulders and the muscles across his back and neck. Severus revelled in Harry's touch, and gave serious thought to giving himself over entirely to whatever Harry had in mind. As if hearing that thought, Harry explained "I've wanted to see your body for a long time now, Severus. I know, you've reminded me all week, that we have a date on Friday and don't want to get ahead of ourselves, we want to do it right this time. I understand that, but I want to see your body now. I don't want to wait any longer."

Severus considered. He was probably not as exhausted as the others, and he expected Harry was ithe same, because they'd experienced substantial magical drains in the past and their bodies were better able to deal with it than others who never encountered this before. That did not change the fact that he was still exhausted and he'd be asleep in minutes once he got into bed. He countered Harry's proposal. "We're both exhausted, so this would not be a good time for any sort of intimate activity. However, it would be a good time for a shower, together. To make sure neither of us falls and hits our head, of course. Join me?"

Normally, Harry would have been reluctant to strip in front of Severus, hearing in his head the continual statements of his aunt that he was an ugly little thing and assuming that to still be true. He was too tired for that right now. He followed Severus into the bathroom where Severus gently helped him out of his robes and shirt, and then removed his own trousers and pants before helping Harry out of his. Severus stood clearly admiring the slender form of his young bondmate. The boy had narrow but well-proportioned shoulders, just muscling out a bit, a small waist, and from the back, a very nicely-rounded and pert ass. Turing Harry to face him, he had to admire the taut abs, strong legs, and surprisingly large cock for such a small man. As Harry faced him, he had the chance to marvel at Severus' body. He'd already seen the man's broad shoulders and strong, lean upper body, on their very first night together, and from some of the times that Severus had held him, he imagined that he had strong, well proportioned legs, but he was vague about what he hoped to see when he finally got to see the man naked. It was everything he would have imagined, had he known that such as this existed. The legs were amazingly long, and so beautiful. The ass was perfect, and the sight of Severus' cock nearly took Harry's breath away. The dark hair in which the cock nested was as curly as the hair on his head was straight, and Harry loved the contrast. He'd seen the guys in the dorm naked before, and shared the shower room with them, but it was as if he was seeing the male form for the first time as he looked at Severus. His appreciation of the sight was completely evident on Harry's face, to Severus' relief. And Harry saw the same awe and appreciation on Severus' face as he looked at him. Harry had imagined that he would never be on the receiving end of such a blatantly lustful gaze. He could not imagine how he could have gotten so lucky, that a man as attractive as Severus could possibly find someone like him even remotely attractive!

Severus spelled the shower on to a comfortably warm temperature, and gently guided Harry under the spray. He soaped them both generously, giving extra and probably not entirely necessary attention to Harry's ass and then carefully soaping and fondling his balls and finally his cock. The young man was nearly asleep against Severus' chest as he was washed, but even in that exhausted state, his body managed to respond to Severus' ministrations, and Severus reward him for the lovely erection with a careful, firm hand job. As much as Severus might have wanted a more mutual experience, he was not a 16 year old, and this was going to be just for Harry.

Severus spelled off the shower and cast a quick drying charm. Harry had fallen asleep against him, standing up. He gently lifted Harry in his arms and carried him off to bed. Once under the covers, Harry scooted over to Severus' side and spooned into him. Severus welcomed the young man into his arms, and fell to sleep almost immediately.

As the two wizards slept with their bodies entwined, their magics reached out to each other as well, the magic of each seeking to wrap the other in a protective embrace. There was no contest of wills involved, just two individuals each intent upon securing the safety and well-being of the other. The magics simply folded around each other, and each wizard slept secure, feeling the protection of the other.


	9. Ch 86 Fury

Chapter 86 - Fury

Green eyes blinked open, and looked right into ebony ones. So far, so good. Harry could tell he had been sleeping in Severus' arms. Also good. As he stretched a bit to get his muscles ready to propel him from bed, Harry realized that he had been sleeping in Severus' arms and he wasn't wearing any clothing. Definitely not good.

The ebony eyes that were watching Harry recogized the instant that he experienced that discomfort. The unselfconscious posture was instantly replaced by one that screamed shyness and uncertainty. A very beautiful young man was suddenly wracked with fear that he was ugly and undesirable – how on earth could that be? It was uncomfortable to watch, and Severus was not going to ignore it.

"Harry, why did you tense up so? You were stretched out, so contented, and in a blink of an eye, you look like you want to hide. Did something happen?" he asked. Those green eyes looked down, lacking the confidence to meet Severus' eyes. "I don't know."

"You are without a doubt the most delectable young man I believe I have ever seen. You have the most perfect, creamy skin, and a beautifully muscled physique. Why are you trying to hide yourself? Why don't you want me to see you?" The doubt in those green eyes at that statement was heartbreaking. With a sigh, Severus pulled himself to a sitting position, leaning against the headboard, and he pulled Harry up to sit between his legs, resting against his chest. There were better, more passionate ways to start a day, but those would have to wait. Harry needed something else right now. He caressed the young man with a gentleness even Severus did not realize he possessed, stroking his arms, his back, his legs. It took several minutes, but finally Harry relaxed a bit and leaned into Severus' chest. Severus kept up his gentle stroking as he started speaking. "Harry, you were told by people who were totally blind that you were ugly, who were totally ignorant that you were not smart, who were perfectly awful that you were a freak. We've discussed this before. They are the ugly, stupid freaks! You cannot allow yourself to be defined by their limited views – you are far superior to that. I've told you before, and I'll keep telling you, that you are beautiful. You spent yesterday working with several of the smartest wizards on the planet on one of the most complicated spells ever devised by wizards, and you made major and substantial contributions to the spell created. You have power beyond imagining that you use with the utmost consideration for others."

A small smile crept into the corners of Harry's mouth as his listened to Severus' barrage of compliments. He could feel a blush starting as well. Severus kept up the stroking and caressing for a bit, finally reaching for Harry's chin and lifting his face up. "Do you understand how special you are?" The smile grew. Harry wasn't going to say anything, but his demeanor began to signal acceptance if not outright comfort in his own skin.

Severus stood and helped Harry out of the bed, guiding him into the bathroom for his morning routine while Severus gathered their clothes and began to dress. When Harry emerged, Severus used the bathroom, and they were both dressed for breakfast in surprisingly little time.

"So, do you have plans today, Severus?" a hesitant voice asked.

"I certainly do. This afternoon, I am going to be cooking a very special dinner, as I have a date with a very handsome young man and promised that I'd cook for him. The evening should be quite enjoyable." Harry was very pleased that Severus remembered, and even suggested that he was looking forward to, their date.

"I meant now. I was thinking I'd like to get those notebooks translated, as I imagine that Mr. Malfoy will want them back soon, and I also need to get started on the notes that Lord Aventine gave me to translate for you." Severus pondered that statement for a moment, and decided to volunteer, "I have some marking to do. I could join you in your offices, so you are not up there by yourself." Severus met the look of relief and pleasure on Harry's face with a smirk of his own, although inwardly, he was rejoicing at what he was sure was the first time that he had correctly "read" a dissembling Gryffindor. He was starting to get the hang of this – maybe he did not need the handbook as much as he'd thought!

Their plans were delayed when they found Albus, Minister Bones and Kingsley waiting for them in Harry's offices. The Minister had been informed the night before about the successful removal of the Dark Marks, and had arranged this meeting for the first thing in the morning. She understood that Harry and Albus were firmly of the opinion that this was an urgent, necessary step. As it was a purely magical matter, she felt it was Harry's decision, really, but she wanted to understand what they believed they were accomplishing, so she could better plan for whatever political steps she would need to take.

Harry explained that his biggest fear from the start was that Voldemort would react to learning that his carefully planned actions had been thwarted by simply recasting his spell. Harry was not confident of his ability to counter that spell on a world-wide basis again so soon after the first time. He was certain from the drain on their power that Voldemort had been able to cast such a powerful spell, and achieve the scope he had, by drawing on the power of many very powerful wizards, his Death Eaters. He was reasonably certain that Voldemort could not do anything like that again without being able to draw on their power. This meant that his retaliatory actions, which he was sure would happen, would be isolated, local attacks. Voldemort would not have access to the power needed to pull off what he'd done the first time.

Severus explained that without the Dark Mark, not only would Voldemort be reduced to one powerful wizard drawing on his own magical powers, he would not be able to even reach out to his Death Eaters and summon them en masse. He would have to reach out to each of them, one at a time, which would take time.

Madam Bones appreciated the value of cutting Voldemort's power supply like that, but one of the concerns expressed to her and her team at the Ministry by representatives of all the other magical governments had been about Voldemort's ability to summon demons. When he did that the first time, the Elder Demon appeared on all continents, so now no one felt safe. Severus inwardly sighed – he knew the answer to that, based in part on Miss Granger's prescience. When she explained that she'd found all those old demon-banishing spells, she had clearly researched old demon-summoning spells, prompting him to notice some mentions of those spells among some of the books he'd seen from the Malfoy Library. He responded "Demon-summoning is one of the darkest of the dark magics. It requires a wizard willing to irreparably taint his soul, but it does not require a wizard of particuarly strong magic. The magical strength of a wizard does impact the kind of demon that he can summon, though. I believe that Voldemort was able to summon that Elder Demon based on his use of power beyond just his own. If an individual wizard chose to summon a Demon, the one that would respond to the summons would not be anything at all like what we saw around the world and on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch a few days ago. There are any number of demon-banishing spells beyond the King's Banishment that Harry used on the Elder Demon, and they'd work on a lesser Demon. Mr. Potter's friend, Miss Granger, told me that she'd found others besides the King's Banishment in her research on ancient spells for Mr. Potter, so I suspect they are buried in history books that are already in libraries all over. We can ask her to share the results of her research, and we'll give you a precis that you can share with other nations. There are strong witches and wizards all over the world, and we are unlikely to see any Demons that they cannot handle."

Minister Bones looked quite taken aback that there was a student at Hogwarts researching demon-banishing spells, but Albus looked pleased as punch at the news. "A most remarkable young woman, your friend Miss Granger!" he said to Harry, who nodded with a smile. "In any case, Amelia, I would imagine that without the power of his Death Eaters, Voldemort will be acting more locally that he was before. His base of power, and most of his Death Eaters, are here in Britain. He does not have the extra magic he would need to travel great distances or wage battles in far flung locations."

Harry thought back on a comment Ron had made about the strategic benefits of disrupting an opponent's battle plan. "It is likely that Voldemort's original plans have been scuttled by what we've done. He is going to be acting out of frustration and not in furtherance of his carefully planned scheme." Albus added, "I suggest that you alert the magical world and tell them to be on guard. I suspect that you can find some information on demon-banishing spells at the Ministry, but if you can't, I will ask Miss Granger to share her notes."

Madam Bones looked thoughtfully at the group sitting in Harry's office/meeting room. Their casual talk of demon-banishing truly made her skin crawl, but as distressing as she found these things, this group seemed willing to confront them with careful, unemotional thought. It was not in her nature to trust blindly, but she was very comfortable accepting the help they were providing. "We'll resume Operation Safe Harbor today, then, although I will assign at least two Aurors to each team, to be safe."

X X X X X X X X X X

Voldemort awoke in his chamber slowly, pondering for the umpteenth time how tired he's been lately. Yesterday, that one trip, just a few hours, and he'd been exhausted. After meeting the Grim, he'd had to return to Riddle Manor for rest. Ah, well, he had ample time, nothing but time stretching before him. Better to be well-rested and able to fully appreciate the wonders of the world he was in the process of creating!

About mid-morning, Voldemort decided that it was time to gather at least some of his Death Eaters to him, to share the exploration of this new world he was creating. He stepped into his garden, and touched his wand to the Dark Mark on his arm, chanting the names of the Death Eaters he wanted to come to him. He closed his eyes and inhaled the fragrance of the garden, and waited for the black streaks of his minions apparating to him in response to his summons. And he waited. And waited.

Anger and confusion warred to be his dominant reaction. Where were they? Why were they making him wait? He touched his arm again with his wand, and repeated the summons. Maybe there had been some problem; he really had not been himself since the casting, so perhaps the summons had not worked for some reason. Still no responses. Possible punishments for their disrespect ran through his head, as his scowl deepened the lines on his snake-like face.

With a chilling laugh, he shook his head. He truly was still not himself. Of course, his Death Eaters could not respond; he had not awakened them from the sleeping spell he cast!

He had not really considered this when he devised the spell to put everyone else in the world to sleep. His Death Eaters were scattered around the world, although most were wizards and witches he'd known for years and were from Britain and Europe. The prospect of having to go to each one at home did not appeal, so he thought of alternatives. He wondered to himself if he might be able to send out the pulse of magic that would awaken his chosen Death Eaters through the lines that ran to the sigil that the Elder Demon had marked for him. Voldemort took his position in his audience chamber, and directed a pulse of magic into the ley lines that converged there. He tried again to summon those Death Eaters. Again he waited and waited, but no one came.

Anger was no longer a significant factor in his emotions. Something was wrong here. He pondered the spell he just cast, and for good measure, went back and cast it again, to be sure it was done correctly. Again the summons did not work. On further reflection, now sure that the spell had been properly cast, he concluded that in all likelihood, this particular spell was one that did not work in this indirect way, and he would need to visit each of his Death Eaters personally to bestow the spell that would restore them to life. He decided that he liked the sound of that – the personal touch, the connection of his touch to their being able to live. But a nagging thought occurred to him. He HAD awoken one Death Eater, Graydon Goyle, personally all ready. He'd tried to awaken the three that had survived the casting of the spell, and one of the three responded, but the other two did not. He wondered why the one who was awakened had not responded to the summons, as he also wondered if all or most of his other Death Eaters were somehow in the same condition as the two who did not wake. It had not occurred to him, but maybe once they were sent to sleep like this, some wizards, even very strong ones, had some inner frailty that caused them to lose the ability to awaken. There were many things to consider.

He went straight to the guest room where Graydon had been taken, to find him having morning tea. Ignoring their Dark Lord's summons was something Death Eaters knew never to do, because the punishment extracted for such disrespect was an awful one, the Cruciatus curse. Someone who knew that he was about to receive such punishment was usually agitated and desperate to offer some excuse to avoid the punishment, but Graydon warmly greeted his host and invited him to have tea. He seemed totally unaware that he had been summoned and failed in his duty to come to his Lord immediately.

"Did you not hear me, my friend? Or maybe not feel the summons?"

Graydon looked totally confused, and more than a little fearful at that statement. "My Lord, I've been here all morning. The elves have done a wonderful job of supplying potions that have helped me recover, and when I awoke this morning, they brought me some breakfast and now some tea. I've not heard, nor have I felt anything. I assure you, my Lord, had I been aware that you wished to see me, I would have responded immediately!"

"Show me your arm!"

A confused Graydon pushed up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal his left forearm, and to the mutual horror of himself and Voldemort, the Dark Mark was gone.

Graydon probably survived because of all the other things that had not gone as planned for Voldemort that morning. Normally when confronted with something as unexpected and distressing as this, he responded with a spell or action that most in the vicinity did not survive. Today, it was becoming clear that something had gone very wrong in the casting of the spell, resulting in a number of unanticipated consequences. Voldemort was agitated and upset, but now he was thinking about whether there were elements in the magic he had used that he did not consider. Did the sleeping spell somehow dissolve the Dark Mark? The magic he had used to affix those Marks was ancient and exceedingly powerful, but then again, so was that sleeping spell. It had never occurred to him that there might be any sort of reaction by the different magics; as he had done all this work himself, he had no minion on whom he could heap the blame and relieve his frustration with horrific punishments.

He stormed out of the room, leaving an upset but relieved Graydon to finish his tea that had now gone cold, and looked in on the two of his Death Eaters who had not awaked when he tried before. He recast the awakening spell at them again, for good measure, but nothing happened. To his growing horror, when he pushed up the left sleeve of each of the wizards, the Dark Mark was gone!

Something was clearly amiss. Voldemort was thinking as hard as he could. He needed to find out exactly what had not worked as he had planned, and determine why things had not worked as he expected, so that he could figure out what to do next, to salvage the situation.

He started by retracing the steps he'd taken the day before, and apparated to the muggle town outside Riddle Manor. There was still much death and destruction evident, which was a comfort to Voldemort, but now he took a closer look at the sleeping muggles. He would have expected that the muggles would be near to death from dehydration and exposure. They actually looked comfortable and rested, not at all dehydrated, let alone approaching death.

Voldemort's mind was reeling. Had he seriously miscalculated? Did the sleeping spell retain some element of the stasis component that he was so certain he had stripped from it?

Wondering now if sleeping wizards were faring as well as the sleeping muggles were under this spell, Voldemort apparated to one of the numerous small villages that dotted the easternmost unplottable counties, figuring that his research would go faster in the cluster of witches and wizards in the towns rather than in the manors and more private residences that were the rule in the tonier, more westerly counties like High Hill. To his absolute shock as he appeared at the fringe of one such town, the witches and wizards in that town were going about their business as if nothing had happened! Children were playing in the streets, the shops were open and doing a good trade. It seemed that the spell had never even reached them! Of course, from a distance, Voldemort could not see the few signs that something bad had happened here recently, to at least a few of the residents. There were some people wearing bandages or limping gingerly on recently-healed limbs, but by and large, it was a normal day in this town.

There was a playground nearby, and Voldemort decided to cast his sleeping spell directly at the children there, to see if it still worked at all. He was gratified that the children all fell where they stood, now sound asleep. He was also a bit surprised, based on what he'd seen elsewhere, that the sleeping children evidenced no stasis protections. How did stasis get into this? Where did that come from, if it wasn't part of his own spell?

He had seen the six wizards who had attended him at the casting all fall to sleep immediately, and had learned later that three died from the experience. So he knew that wizards were not immune to the spell, as he'd just proven again on the playground. Those were very powerful wizards, he knew, so this was not an issue of magical strength; in all likelihood, the wizards and witches who made these towns their homes were far weaker than any of his Death Eaters. Was it distance? Did the spell lose power as it travelled across the land, such that it was ineffective on those with magic even at this modest distance? Or was something else at work here?

The Crabbs, a family that included several of his Death Eaters, resided in the westernmost county of High Hill, which was farther distant from Riddle Manor than these towns. He apparated to their family compound, only to find it deserted. Of course, the children who were of age would be at Hogwarts, but he was sure that there were some younger children who would normally be at home. He did not know that the Death Eaters among the family had been at Malfoy Manor for treatment after the horrific drain on their power. In fear that somehow the Death Eaters in the family had displeased the Dark Lord, the other members of the family went to stay with various relatives once their husbands and brothers were in the care of mediwizards.

Not knowing what to make of the absence of people at the Crabb compound, he apparated to the Parkinson home, a short distance away. The patrician head of the family, Prescott Parkinson, had chosen to return home as soon as he had recovered from the drain on his magical power at Malfoy Manor, and in fact had returned the day before. He had been a loyal Death Eater from the very start, and was one of the first to take the Dark Mark. He and his family were confident that their loyalty to the Dark Lord could not possibly be questioned in any way. They might not understand why Prescott had become as drained as he had, and but they chose not to interpret this as an attack or something from which they should flee.

Voldemort was welcomed like the royalty he preferred to regard himself as being, which was comforting on one level but distressing in that every member of the Parkinson family was awake. Prescott shared news with him over lunch that proved to be even more distressing. First was the news that wizards had in fact all been sent to sleep but had then been wakened, almost immediately after the sleep hit them. Prescott himself was far too ill from the drain on his magic when that happened to know what others experienced, but did know from his family that they were awakened by a young man calling their names. A suspicion started to grow in the back of Voldemort's mind. Prescott then shared the story of the invitation to go to Malfoy Manor for treatment by a team of mediwizards that Lucius was assembling. Given Lucius' recent behavior, that was potentially troubling. While Lucius had never publically broken faith with Voldemort, he had heard rumors of the foiled attempt to marry his son Draco off to Sirius Black, and then there was his choice of opponents when he ran amok in the Ministry. The whole thing came more into focus when Prescott identified the bearer of the invitation as Kingsley Shacklebolt – there was no doubt that Malfoy had chosen to ally himself with the Light, likely with Potter. The picture was totally clear with the story that Prescott had heard at the Manor that Dumbledore and others from Hogwarts, such as Potter, were working on removing the Dark Marks from the Death Eaters' arms. He also began to suspect that Potter had something to do with the stasis that was preserving the sleeping muggles.

Back in his offices at Hogwarts, Harry had spent an uncomfortable morning after the meeting with the Minister, sensing the agitation and distress that Voldemort was experiencing. He'd discussed the sensations with Severus, and they reached the conclusion that Voldemort was in the process of realizing that something was not right, but probably not yet to the point that he actually understood what had occurred. This was all about to change.

Voldemort thanked Prescott and his family for their hospitality, and apparated off to Malfoy Manor. He was stopped by the new wards that Lucius had put in place, and infuriated that he was blocked from immediate entry. He set to shredding the wards.

Lucius had been presiding over the departures of his guests for most of the morning. Several had left the day before, and most of the others returned to their families after breakfast that morning. Those who remained in need of medical care were now free to go to St. Mungos, as their now-unmarked forearms did not identify them as Death Eaters any longer. One of the last still in the Manor was Eustace Landon. The boy was in no apparent hurry to return to his father, a reluctance that Lucius could understand. He knew the elder Landon through some business ventures and social engagements, and had always regarded him as a pompous ass. It had surprised Lucius that this young man was willing to take the Mark, as he was reasonably certain that his father would disinherit him in an instant if he knew. Eustace had sought out some time to speak to Lucius, who was flattered by the attention, so the two spent the morning with Lucius showing off the many delights and treasures of his Manor to Eustace, and they were just finishing the midday meal as Lucius felt a disturbance in the Manor wards.

It was mere seconds after Lucius felt the wards tearing that he heard Voldemort screaming for him, hurling threats and curses. The raging fury told him that the Dark Lord had figured out at least some of what had gone on, at least the part that had Lucius helping Potter gather the Death Eaters and remove their Marks. They needed to get out of here, or he and his guest almost assuredly faced an excruciatingly painful interrogation and death. There was only one place that might afford some protection against the raving madman who was just moments from gaining access to his home – Hogwarts. Lucius grabbed Eustace by the arm and bolted with him toward the Library, which fortunately was toward the back of the manor, away from the point of entry that Voldemort was about to use. It gave them a slight advantage, which Lucius hoped was going to be sufficient.

They reached the Library and heard Voldemort in the house. He had heard them running, and was himself now heading toward the rear of the house, where he knew from his visits in the past, there were several rooms. Voldemort passed the rear parlor first, and was able to confirm with a quick glance that it was unoccupied, so he hurried on. The Library was next, and given the presence of so many large bookcases, it was not possible to check it with a glance; Voldemort had to take the time to go into the room and through it to see if anyone was hiding in there. Lucius, praying for all he was worth that the floo connection between the Manor and Harry's offices at Hogwarts was still in place, grabbed a handful of floo power from the china bowl on the table next to the hearth in one hand, and pushing Eustace in ahead of him, threw it down and yelled Hogwarts, just as Voldemort approached them. The green flame was whisking them off, and Voldemort made a hasty decision to throw himself into the flame and attempt to be taken off with them.

Harry had been holding his head in some significant pain for several minutes now, and Severus had left his chair to stand next to Harry should he need any help. It was clear that Voldemort had finally worked out some significant part of what had been happening and was in a full rage, which was evident in the great distress in which Harry now found himself. Fortunately, Harry had been sitting in a chair on the side of the table nearest the fireplace, and Severus, who had been sitting on the other side of the table, had just come around to assist him.

When they heard screams coming from the fireplace as the green flames flared to life, Severus was already standing right there and able to grab Lucius and the young man whose arm he was holding, and pull them out of the flame as soon as they appeared. They were yelling to shut down the floo connection. Harry had his wand in his hand at the commotion from the floo, and immediately severed the floo connection to Malfoy Manor. Just before the connection broke, however, Voldemort's face appeared in the fading flames, and he had just enough time before being yanked back to Malfoy Manor to see both Severus and Harry. They did not need to see Voldemort's eyes turn red with rage, as Harry collapsed at that moment, in terrible pain, and with a small trickle of blood making its way fron his scar down his forehead.

Severus immediately turned his full attention to Harry. He was roused in mere seconds, as Severus helped him control the pain and occlude more completely. He was pale and shaken, but not harmed beyond the momentary distress he'd just experienced. Lucius had never seen anything like Harry's reaction to Voldemort's anger, and was a bit scared by the reality of it. For his part, Eustace was terrified of all that had just happened, from the moment his lunch was interrupted, to what he was seeing before him right now.

When it was clear that all were safe and at least on their way to being well, Lucius introduced Eustace to the others. Eustace was clearly thrilled to meet Severus. It turned out that Eustace was a passionate student of Potions, and his teacher had mentioned Severus Snape a number of times as one of the top Potions Masters in the world. He was overjoyed to be introduced to Harry, too. Severus noticed that Harry got a strange look in his eyes when he shook Eustace's hand. He mumbled something about the Landers family being on a very interesting path. Rather than make an issue of it, he made a mental note that he wanted to ask Harry about that later. Meanwhile, he began to make arrangements for Lucius and Eustace to take up residence at Hogwarts, as for now, Malfoy Manor was not available.


	10. Ch 87 Passions

Chapter 87 – Passions

Ron and Hermione took their places at Friday night dinner, each commenting that this was the first semi-normal dinner they'd enjoyed at Hogwarts for a while now. They had no need to get back to the Headmaster's or Harry's offices, no burning problem to solve, no complicated spell to create or learn. It was nice to just be able to sit in their usual places, amid the usual people and visit with their friends for once. True, Harry was absent this evening – he'd said something about plans with Severus, but otherwise, all was exactly as it should be.

Neville had news. His gram, the formidable Augusta Longbottom, had found him the greenhouses this afternoon and asked him to join her for tea on Saturday afternoon. Most people would find tea with their grandmother to be at worst boring or tedious, but Neville was in an absolute panic. Everyone remembered Neville turning his boggart, Severus Snape, into something funny by dressing Snape in his grandmother's very distinctive clothing, but what did cause more than a few of Neville's classmates pause was discovering that the reality was not much less scary than Snape to begin with. She was a stern, no-nonsense kind of person, with very high standards and the expectation that people would live up to her standards. It had not escaped Neville's notice that she'd stood with the Headmaster and others who were extremely powerful witches and wizards at the casting of the stasis spell, one of the small group that cast the Iunctus spell. He'd always know his gram was a powerful witch, but he was still taken aback to see her shoulder to shoulder with some of the strongest wizards he knew.

"What does she want with me? What does she plan to discuss? Should I be studying something, or reading up on something to get ready? What if I disappoint her?"

Hermione laughed at the level of panic that tea with Mrs. Longbottom generated in her grandson. Given all the things that had been going on around here for the past few days, this was so refreshingly normal.

Seamus had his stories to tell, too. He'd landed on an Operation Safe Harbor team that was stationed in a Ministry warehouse in London. The Ministry workers had been bringing in wrecked cars in which muggles were sleeping, and his team that was cutting them out of the wreckage. "We didn't get shut down yesterday, since we're in a warded building anyway, and they'd already brought in a few dozen cars when the teams were pulled from outside activity. They needed a few of us who'd actually been in cars and had at least some understanding of what went where to be a part of the team." His descriptions were listened to with horror by most of the pure bloods at the table, who were silently vowing to themselves to never set foot into a muggle automobile. There were so many wrecks, and it was a surprise to Seamus how many did not prove fatal for the muggles in the cars. They were anxious to get muggles out of the wrecks because there were quite a few injuries like broken bones that would be much easier to address sooner rather than later, especially while the muggles were asleep. Ron was both horrified and fascinated by the stories Seamus was telling, as he was one of the few pure bloods whose family had actually owned a car. Granted, his father had modified it to fly and become invisible, but it was still a muggle car. Ron knew that his father was going to want to install these "air bags" that Seamus mentioned. They sounded very cool.

When dinner was over, Ron suggested that he and Hermione take advantage of not having to be somewhere or do something for once, and go for a stroll down by the greenhouses. The greenhouses created several very secluded spots within the walls of the castle but out of sight of people in the castle itself, and had become quite a popular destination for couples looking for privacy lately. No one was stealing off to places outside of the castle wards anymore.

Ron had been very pleased that Hermione had accepted his kiss the other day when they were waiting for Harry to join them. He'd really agonized over whether she'd welcome his touch or push him back. She was so hard for him to read! Going on about DNA and other totally vulgar subjects one minute, and getting all stiff and proper the next. He was in a constant state of confusion with her. He'd been thinking about kissing her for a while, and finally gotten his nerve up, and just as things were getting interesting, Harry had turned up. Not that he blamed Harry or anything, but his timing could have been better. Tonight, since Harry had other plans, he figured that they were much less likely to be interrupted, if things took off as he hoped they would.

For her part, Hermione had been hoping that Ron would initiate something intimate with her. She had been thinking of starting something herself, asking him out, putting her hand someplace that he'd understand her interest, but wizarding courting customs, especially those followed by the socially backward Ron, gave her pause. She'd decided to look for opportunities to plant suggestions that hopefully Ron would pick up and pursue, thinking they were his idea to start with. Hermione had heard talk about the alleys between the greenhouses and the walls from some of her female friends, and she'd worked in mention of them very obliquely in a conversation she'd had with Ron a couple of weeks ago. True to form, he'd finally adopted her suggestion as his idea, and she was very happy that he'd finally gotten up his courage to invite her to go.

The two stole away from the groups returning to the Common Rooms and headed to a seldom-used door that was a short-cut to the greenhouses that Neville had shown to them, as he used it frequently. They were not the only couple sneaking down there, but each pair was keeping to itself and trying not to draw attention to itself. Hermione's recommendation was the alley just beyond the next-to-last greenhouse. She really did not want to go to the furthest and be right at the castle walls; it felt safer to be one full greenhouse in from the walls. Ron was amenable, so they staked out space toward the end of the alley, hopefully away from any prying eyes.

Ron was not exactly sure what to do, now that they'd gotten to this point. He suspected that some conversation was in order, and he had no idea what to talk about, which was odd because Hermione was such a good friend and they always found things to talk about. Hermione was a bit disappointed that Ron seemed so awkward with her. She took a seat on her folded school robes and patted the space next to her. Ron seemed thankful for the clue and sat there, at a respectful distance. She immediately closed that distance, observing "It's a bit chilly here, don't you think?" He nodded aggressively at her comment, and did his best to accommodate her move to be close to him by backing off to prevent their bodies from actually touching. Silently cursing her bad fortune to fall for the one member of the Weasley family for whom this sort of thing was such a trial, she took his arm and physically placed it around her shoulders, giving her an excuse to snuggle into his chest. She could feel his breathing getting labored. He was panicking, and she had to do something. "That's much better, Ron - thanks. It's a beautiful night, isn't it?" She had turned into him and, trusting him to leave his arm around her shoulders as she did, placed her own arms around his waist, pulling their torsos tighter together. She dearly wanted to start touching his chest, and maybe if she was bold, move her hands down over his stomach and maybe even to more interesting places. She did not want to scare him out of his wits and cost her what she believed had the chance to be a wonderful and loving long-term relationship, so she held off on that tactic for now. Gradually, her little comments and observations got verbal responses, some of even a full sentence in length, so she knew she was getting him comfortable. When they were well past the point at which she would have expected this session to begin to involve significant kissing, she started nibbling on his neck, placing little kisses on his neck, and slowly advancing up to his chin. FINALLY, he got the message and turned into her hug, lowered his face to hers, and gave her what she wanted – nice, long, open-mouthed kisses.

Hermione's heart was soaring as she lost herself in the sensations that were coursing through her body, and her own breath started to deepen. Unfortunately, Ron's hands stayed resolutely at her shoulders. She took one of his hands and guided it down her arms, and onto her chest, placing it atop her breast, and then placed her hand atop his to get the fingers caressing and massaging her. She moaned encouragingly, and after a bit of a rough start, he began to get the idea, and was actually delivering some very arousing caresses. She adjusted her clothing a bit so she could get his hand up inside her sweater, and started working his hand down to the hem of her sweater, and then up the inside of it, finally back to her breast. She'd not been able to adjust her bra, so there was still that fabric between them, but it was filmy fabric and this felt much better than the sweater.

Her own hands were now pressing around on Ron's chest and shoulders, massaging his muscles. As he warmed to touching her in a more intimate manner, she was emboldened to start touching him more intimately, too. Her hands moved to his stomach, and gently separated his sweater from his trousers, as she got them inside the sweater and onto skin. Each new sensation seemed to require a long period of adjustment for him, so she was stuck giving him a belly rub for several minutes until she tried moving her hands up to his chest to fondle his nipples. He did not seem to enjoy that, pulling away from her touch, so she dropped her hands lower again, heading for the belt buckle and the snap on his trousers.

They were still pretty much sitting up, and Hermione pondered if there was any way to get Ron into a more comfortable position. He resisted any effort to either pull him down on her side, or to be pushed down on his, so she decided they needed to remain sitting. She took advantage of his momentary confusion resisting her movements to get her hand to his belt buckle and undo it, and immediately get the button at the waistband of his trousers undone as well. That got her a small gasp, but he did not stop her. She moved her hand back to his stomach to enable him to adjust to the sensation of the space she'd created at his waist.

All indications were that Ron was enjoying himself with the kisses and fondling Hermione's breasts, and she decided that she'd regard this first session with Ron as a success even if she could not get him to touch her anywhere else. She wanted to touch him more intimately, though. She finally started moving her hands down Ron's torso, to his waistband, and then pushing in and down. He stopped moving his hand on her breast as he felt her hand suddenly rubbing quite below his stomach. She pushed a little bit further, and she had what she was after. Ron was hard, and as she took him in her hand, he went rigid and seemed to stop breathing. She simultaneously deepened the kiss by sucking his tongue into her mouth, as she started stroking him inside his still-zipped trousers. She had suspected that Ron had never done anything like this before, and that was confirmed when, after only a few minutes, he broke the kiss and with a funny look on his face and deep gulping breaths, he came in his pants as she stroked him.

Apparently, for Ron at least, a very satisfactory orgasm was quite a mood-killer for a romantic evening. With his standard "Bloody hell!" he tried to clean himself up and get Hermione's hand out of where he suspected it did not belong. She just reached for her wand and directed a cleaning charm at his crotch, vanishing the offending dampness, leaving him blotchy and panting, but at least in dry underwear. She kept her calm as he became upset. "Ronald, please calm down. There's nothing wrong with what we just did, or with what just happened to you. It's all very natural. I really enjoyed kissing you, and would be happy to sit here a while longer doing that. I also was enjoying the way your hand felt rubbing my breast – did you realize how sensitive my nipples are?" That frank, but hardly explicit, comment was making him uncomfortable. "I also really enjoyed touching you like that." He really started to look upset, so she changed the subject. "Let's get cleaned up and back together, and head back to the Common Room. It's kind of chilly out here now, and we maybe can find a nice dark corner there and snog for a while, OK?"

"Yeah, sure, Hermione. Let's go inside. It is kind of chilly out here." She adjusted her clothing and got tucked together, and once he stood and pulled her to her feet, she gathered up her robes, shook them out, and the two snuck along the shadows back to the door into the castle. It might not be much, but it was a start.

X X X X X X X X X X

After their dinner in the Great Hall, Sirius and Remus, who had been seated together at the Head Table, took a short stroll around and just outside the castle admiring the beautiful evening before returning to the rooms they shared and settling in for the evening on the sofa in front of the fire, Sirius stretched out with his feet up on the sofa, resting his head on Remus' lap. There werewolf was watching the flames flicker as he idly played with his mate's curly hair. Remus had not yet broached the subject of Sirius' foolishness in allowing Padfoot to walk along with Voldemort in London, but it had been close to the top of his mind all day. It was time.

"Sirius, I told you we'd discuss Padfoot's excursion with Voldemort, and I think we need to do that now. I was furious with you for taking that risk. There are some risks we have to take because circumstances make it necessary that we try to get information or need to get something done, but there was no reason for what you did. And it was so dangerous, going off with that madman! You could have been killed, and for what? Nothing! I cannot stand the thought of losing you, Sirius."

"Oh, Remus, you know I wasn't going to get myself killed. Padfoot's big and fast; if old Voldie made a move at him, he could have dodged him or run away, or maybe even physically attacked him. Padfoot was in no real danger. But, if it makes you feel better, I'll promise that I won't do it again."

"Sorry, but that's not good enough. It was a foolish and ill-considered thing that you did. I think you need to be punished; that will assure that you remember this lesson."

Sirius looked up at his mate with surprise, a smile playing on his lips and a gleam in his eye as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Oohh! Punishment – that sounds like it could be fun, Remus! What do you have in mind? Something kinky?"

Remus lifted Sirius up off his lap, flipped him over face down, and with a wave of his wand, had the smaller man's trousers and pants bunched around his knees. He held him in place as he began to rain sharp smacks on Sirius' backside. Sirius reacted loudly. At first, he was furious with Remus, demanding that he be released that instant. Almost simultaneously, though, Sirius realized that his anger was matched by a growing arousal at his situation. It really did not hurt that much, and it was quite a turn-on to be draped over Remus' lap, held so tightly, and swatted so intimately. Once Sirius was focused on the arousal, the indignity and pain were forgotten. He started to hump Remus' lap, looking for some friction, finding it eventually in the space between Remus' legs. The sounds of protest were replaced by equally loud "Ahhs" and "Yes!"

Before Sirius could make a complete mess of Remus' trousers, he pulled Sirius up to his feet and carried him to the bedroom. It was just a matter of seconds after that that the remainder of Sirius' clothing was gone, and Remus shed his, as well. Most of their lovemaking up to this time had been very gentle and considerate. Sirius had been amazed that he could be as comfortable in a relationship in which he was not the alpha male, as had been the case with every partner he'd ever had before, and part of his acceptance of his role in this relationship flowed from the way Remus made him feel absolutely safe and treasured whenever they made love. Tonight was a bit different.

The wolf was in charge and demanding, and while Sirius still felt safe and treasured, he was treated roughly. Remus cast a cleaning and lubricating spell, but he took almost no time to prepare Sirius for what was to come, and he took him hard. Where normally there would be soft and gentle thrusts, tonight, Remus pounded in and out. Often, their lovemaking was a more mutual experience, but that was not to be the case tonight. Sirius was on his knees and elbows, or on his back with his legs resting on Remus' shoulders. Remus did not allow Sirius to touch himself; only he was going to do that tonight, and that was something else done roughly.

When at last the furious couplings ended, Sirius was limp. He'd been brought to orgasm twice, and felt drained. His ass ached from the constant, rough attention it had gotten. He collapsed into Remus' arms, intending to spoon into his lover to sleep.

Remus wasn't done, though, although he was no longer going to be rough. He was still hard, and as Sirius spooned into him, he carefully eased himself once more into his lover as they lay on their sides. This time, the sex was tender and slow. Sirius reacted with a whimper when Remus's wiry hair ground into the sore skin on his spanked bottom, but he turned his head to reach Remus' and they kissed constantly as Remus gently moved in and out. Remus reached around Sirius and stroked him with exquisite care, extracting yet another orgasm. When they had both climaxed one final time, Remus stayed inside his lover. He stayed that way for quite a while, and for the first time in his life, Sirius fell asleep with his lover still inside of him, feeling full, and cherished and loved in a way he'd never experienced before.

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry had stayed away from the dungeons all afternoon, not sure what Severus needed to do to prepare the dinner he had planned, and not wanting to be in the way. He stashed a change of clothes in the prefects' bathroom, so he could shower and change before going back to their rooms for dinner. Careful to stay within the wards, he then spent some time in a meadow outside the school, picking a large bouquet of flowers for the table. It was probably a muggle thing, but the few memories Harry had of anyone arriving for a special dinner at the Dursleys almost always included some flowers. He hoped the ones he'd selected were acceptable; he certainly could not get to a florist from here and had no idea if there were wizarding services that would deliver something like this. He wanted to show Severus how much he appreciated the effort he was making on his behalf, so it seemed appropriate. He'd found Neville in the greenhouses and was able to also gather some tips on how best to keep the flowers fresh, as well as a few greenhouse blooms that Neville thought would look good with the meadow flowers.

Severus had spent much more time than he'd be willing to admit in planning this dinner and then cooking it. His skill with potions assured that he had a number of skills that were directly transferable to culinary pursuits, and while Severus cooked very infrequently, he had several complicated and impressive "sure things" in his repertoire in which he had great confidence. All well and good, but he was not so sure that Harry would be familiar with or even happy eating some of the things he might choose to prepare. Thinking on Harry's limited experiences in dining, he opted instead for a chicken dish that blended the familiar chicken with some subtle spices, for a different, but not shockingly so, dish. He personally loved making soufflés for his guests, as he had some amazing recipes and had created a special cooking charm that assured the perfect cooking environment for a soufflé to rise to impressive heights every time. He thought that was a good bet for Harry, as the taste of the ingredients would be familiar, just not the way they were presented.

At the appointed hour, there was a knock on Severus' door, to the amusement of Salazar and his snake. "Why are you asking Severus to admit you? The password is the same one you gave us just a few hours ago. Did you forget it?" Harry blushed at the inquiry, and mumbled something about not wanting to surprise Severus, who was expecting him to arrive at this time. Severus opened the door for Harry and it was clear from the look on his fact that that he was very pleased to see him. And a big bouquet of flowers? He was puzzled at that, until Harry explained that they were intended to grace their table at dinner. Surmising that this was some muggle tradition, probably one with which Harry himself wasn't all that familiar, he simply conjured a suitably large container in which to place them on the sideboard.

The smells coming from kitchen were wonderful, and Harry's stomach growled in anticipation of whatever it was Severus had planned for them. Severus smirked at the sound, but it wasn't a snarky smirk, and Harry smiled back at him.

Harry followed Severus into the kitchen, to see the sources of the incredible aromas. His eyes widened at the sight of a soufflé – he had never seen anything like that and had no idea what it was. "It's called a soufflé, Harry. This one has vegetables in it, and whipped egg whites are what enable it to achieve that height." Harry shook is head at the marvel. "It almost looks too beautiful to eat. I never saw anything like that. Egg whites? It must be very light then, right?" Severus was surprised that he knew how ingredients would work in a recipe, but then he figured that Harry was not unfamiliar with the work of food preparation, just with the entire experience of enjoying the fruits of all that labor. "Let me serve you some, and some of the chicken."

Severus plated their meals very carefully, with Harry watching intently as he did so, commenting on the scents and ingredients of the special dishes. Severus had accepted a standard salad from the Hogwarts kitchens, along with some pudding for dessert. He served the salad with a dressing of his own creation, also commented on by Harry. As Severus himself never took dessert, he had no particular skill in preparing anything special. He'd noted that Harry and most of the students were always pleased to see a pudding appear when dessert was served, so he'd asked that one be prepared tonight.

Severus had moved the small table that usually served for their meals in the kitchen out into the living room, in front of the fireplace. When Severus had placed the dishes, he pulled out one of the chairs and guided a very uncertain Harry to sit. Harry was overwhelmed. This was so much more than he'd ever imagined. No one had ever gone to such trouble just for him before. He realized that Severus was watching him closely, and he certainly did not want him to think that he was anything less than thrilled with this wonderful meal. "Thank you, Severus. I don't know what to say – I've never seen a meal like this." Severus had been watching the emotions flicker across Harry's face with some concern, as he was not sure if the young man was upset or disappointed with something. With Harry's assurance that his efforts were appreciated, he relaxed a bit.

Harry watched Severus to see the etiquette attached with eating the various things, lest he embarrass himself by doing something wrong. He was comforted by his memory of the dinner with the Snapes, and hoped that Severus' professed lack of concern for the full range of wizard dinner customs held true even in this private setting. Severus noted the scrutiny, and addressed it right away. "Harry, I hope the food is special and to your liking, as it was prepared with your pleasure in mind. But it's just food, and I don't want you worrying about forks, or customs, or anything like that. I want you to eat it, and enjoy it. If anything is not to your liking, let me know. Please, enjoy the food."

With a big grin, then, Harry dug in. It was all incredibly flavorful, and he thoroughly enjoyed everything. The soufflé fascinated him, and he peppered Severus with questions about making it, with more than a few questions focused on issues of dicing vs. slicing vs. chopping. "The next time we are going to have a special dinner, you will make it with me, Harry. It had not occurred to me that you would appreciate the details of making these dishes, but if you want to see how these things are made, we can make them together."

When the meal was over, Severus waved his wand and the table was back in the kitchen and the sofa back in front of the fireplace. A tea service appeared on the table next to the sofa, and Severus served them each a cup as they took seats on the sofa. "Severus, that was an amazing meal. Thank you so much." Harry kept his hands to himself while they enjoyed their tea in companionable silence, but when the cups were empty and placed back on the table, he scooted closer to Severus. Leaning in, he whispered "You are not getting out of our moonlight stroll, Severus. I've been looking forward to it all week." Severus decided against sharing the fact that he had been looking forward to it as well, and directed a look of resignation to Harry. "Oh, alright, if we must . . ."

He stood and summoned their robes. "It will likely be chilly tonight, and I don't want you getting ill." Quite happily, Harry fastened his robe and waited as Severus did the same, and together, they headed out. To his surprise when they left their rooms, Severus led them down some corridors that Harry had never traveled before. Thinking on it, Harry realized that most of the times when he'd left their quarters, he headed off to classes, or the Great Hall, or the other public areas of the castle, but these corridors were heading in a direction he'd never taken before. The castle had many secrets and he was pretty sure he was about to find out another. The corridor ended with a staircase going up to a door that left them just a short walk from the shore of the lake.

"I never knew there was a passage out right to the shores of the lake!"

"Given its location in the dungeons, I don't believe that anyone but Slytherins ever use it, but yes, there has always been a corridor that extends under the castle and comes out here."

Harry was thrilled when Severus reached down and took his hand, as they walked together around the shoreline. Holding hands with their fingers entwined, as they were doing right now, struck Harry as possibly the most intimate touch he'd ever had. He gripped Severus' hand firmly, relishing the touch.

The evening was perfect, in Harry's opinion. Light played on the water, which seemed to twinkle under the starlight, and the soft sound of the little rippling waves was so soothing. He and Severus were quiet, maybe lost in their own thoughts, or maybe each thinking of the other, but very comfortable in the shared silence. Severus found the rock he was looking for – a large rock that jutted slightly into the water, and he helped Harry climb onto it, following himself, as he cast a warming charm around them. While the look of wonder and delight on Harry's face assured Severus that this was Harry's first visit to a favorite spot of generations of Slytherins, in truth although nothing that could be read from his expression, this was Severus' first visit as well.

Severus stretched out on his side, head resting on his bent arm, and Harry sat looking at him, with his legs crossed in front of him. "Harry, you said something today that I've heard you say before, and I wonder if you would explain. You mentioned to Mr. Landon before that you saw an interesting path for his family, and I heard you use similar terminology when we were at the Ministry when you spoke to Lucius Malfoy, about a path set before him. What do you mean by that?"

"I'm not sure myself. I can tell sometimes when I look at someone that there are ways their life might go from there. When I spoke to Mr. Malfoy at the Ministry, I could just tell that there were a couple of different directions that his life could go, and certain decisions that he made right then and there were going to cause things to proceed in a certain direction. Sort of the same thing this afternoon with Mr. Landon. I got the sense of certain possibilities but it seemed that it was not specific to him, but to his family. It isn't something that I see, like a ley line, or a dirt path through a meadow, nothing physical. I just get this very strong feeling, so strong that it is not a feeling, but a sense of certainty. It's happened a couple of other times, too. When Professor Dumbledore and I were leaving the castle to go to the Calling, I had a sense that I was heading off on a path from which I was not going to be able to deviate. I couldn't see the direction for myself, just that it was a time that was going to set things in a direction that could not be changed. And believe it or not, when I stopped to speak to Aunt Petunia the other night, I saw a path before her of a life in the wizarding world."

Severus laughed at that last image. "I have a hard time believing that, Harry. I've never encountered anyone as antagonistic to the wizarding world as that woman."

"You haven't met my Uncle Vernon."

"And you do not see the path for yourself with the same clarity that you can see for others?"

"It hasn't worked that way for me, yet, anyway. It only happened for me that one time. It could just as easily been my realizing that this event was going to be a turning point for me; maybe that's all it was."

"You had mentioned seeing ravens in the Headmaster's office after the demon attack. Are they part of this?"

"The ravens have come to me several times, usually in dreams, but sometimes when I'm awake. They were there that day. They tell me things, and they do seem to know things, sometimes things that haven't happened yet, that they think I should know. Maybe they are connected to this sensing paths thing, but I've not seen them when I've seen others' paths. They've tended to be there when I had dreams of things that were to come, but in the Headmaster's office, they just wanted me to . . . I don't know, focus, I guess, on what needed my attention then."

Severus' expression was strange as he heard this information. He did not want to show any alarm or concern, but this was definitely something that he needed to discuss with the Headmaster. The references to seeing paths had caused both of the men to think of the eye of Odin, but the ravens, Odin's familiars? And they were behaving in a way that a familiar would.

"Have you ever tried to look at someone's path, deliberately?"

Harry shook his head at that, but looked thoughtfully at Severus for several moments. He'd never considered whether he could somehow provoke feeling a sense of the direction that someone's life might take, and as he studied Severus intently, he wondered if he could make it happen now. He realized that he did have a certain sense of direction for Severus' life, but it was vague, in the same way that his own sense of his life's path was vague. "When I try to see a path for you, Severus, I get the same vague perception that I experienced when I saw my own path. I cannot see your path any more clearly than my own. Maybe it's because our paths are moving together? If you and I are on the same path, I will probably have the same problems seeing your path as I have seeing my own. I will give this a try with some others; it might work differently with someone other than you."

Severus was very relieved with that statement. It eased several fears that were lurking just below the surface within him, that had been festering since their discussion about annulments a short while back. If their paths did proceed together, it suggested that Harry might not be waiting for the opportunity to be rid of his bondmate. Severus sincerely hoped that was the case.

Severus was further heartened when that beautiful young man sitting before him shifted from sitting to kneeling, and then moved over to push him onto his back. Harry gently placed a kiss on Severus' lips, and then he leaned into the kiss. Severus idly noted to himself that the boy was a quick learner, as he felt several of the techniques he had used on Harry himself now being used on him by Harry. The two stayed locked in an embrace with Harry stretched on top of Severus, for a number of minutes, their kisses deepening, as their breaths grew shorter. Severus had been wondering if it might be time to suggest that they go back to their rooms, when he heard Harry squeak in distress. Grabbing for his wand as he rose and pivoted at the same time, he sought to find out who or what had so alarmed Harry. The boy was looking in horror out to the lake, and as Severus followed his line of sight, he saw the giant squid floating tranquilly at the surface, with one incredibly large eye trained on the two of them. With an angry comment directed to voyeuristic marine life, he calmed Harry and offered his hand to help the young man stand. "Harry, let's head back inside. The giant squid is just curious, he won't hurt us."

Harry seemed not entirely sure about that, but was happily distracted by Severus' suggestion and the firmness with which he held his hand as they walked to the entrance to the corridor back into the dungeons.

They bypassed the sofa by the fire in the sitting room, and resumed their mutual explorations in the bedroom, now without cloaks and jackets, stretched out on the bed they would later share. Severus stretched out on his back, and encouraged Harry to resume his place stretched over him, as they continued to kiss. He slowly allowed his hands to drift from the younger man's shoulders and back, down to caress his bottom. Harry was momentarily alarmed by that, but soothing sounds from Severus, coupled with a very competent massage of that bottom, calmed him. Severus did realize, though, that Harry's skittishness about being touched intimately, coupled with his reluctance to appear unclothed in front of Severus this morning, suggested that even now that they'd taken their relationship to this new place, he had to proceed slowly.

"Harry, I want you to be assured that we will do nothing that makes you uncomfortable or that you do not want to do. Tonight, we'll explore each other, and find out how we can best enjoy being touched. We are not going to have sexual relations tonight, and we will not until I believe you are ready to take that step. Even if you say that you wish to take our relationship to that level before I think it is time, we are going to wait." He looked very carefully at Harry's face as he spoke, to monitor the emotions being broadcast there, and was himself relieved to see the relief in those beautiful green eyes. "I am going to touch you in ways that I think you will like, and if I've made a mistake about that and you protest, I will stop immediately. You are free to mimic what I do to you, to me, or touch me in ways that you think I might like, and if I'm not comfortable, I'll ask you to stop. Is that acceptable?" Harry could only nod his agreement, not trusting his voice at that moment.

Severus sat up and shrugged out of his clothes, as Harry watched with interest. He truly could not get enough of looking at Severus' body – he thought it was perfection. Severus began kissing Harry as he gently and slowly removed his clothes, alternating mind-blowing kisses on his mouth with little nips and kisses applied to the places newly-freed from clothing. Harry felt absolutely worshiped, and his skin tingled all over. By the time Severus was easing off his pants, Harry was squirming, and when Severus places kisses on his belly and started working his way down, he started groaning. Looking up at Harry for permission when he reached his goal, and seeing lust in those green eyes, Severus took Harry into his mouth and gently began to work his tongue around his prize. Harry nearly forgot to breathe, with the amazing and powerful sensations that were pulsing though his body as Severus swallowed him. When he felt Severus' fingers gently fondling his balls, he had to hold onto the bedcover, and when those fingers started probing back further, Harry seemed no longer able to control his mouth, and drool started ebbing out the side. He did not last long before totally losing himself to an orgasm beyond anything he'd ever imagined, rewarding Severus with strong pulses of cum that were greedily swallowed.

As the young man tried to recover his senses, Severus eased up to lie next to him, and suggested "Would you like to taste yourself on my lips, Harry?" Harry had never considered such an idea, and while not ruling it out for all time, was not quite ready to try that. True to his word, Severus dropped the matter immediately. When Harry had his breath back, he got to his knees, and began to inspect Severus' body in the same way that his had been inspected as his clothes were removed, and he delivered shy kisses as he worked his way from spot to spot. He'd been surprised by the feelings he'd experienced when his nipples had been kissed, and found that Severus seemed to have those feelings too, as the man groaned when he gently sucked on them. Harry playfully poked his tongue into Severus' navel, eliciting another moan. He pondered Severus' erection, not being at all certain that he could get that into his mouth, or do anything close to what he'd just experienced. Severus sensed his hesitation. "Only what you are comfortable doing, Harry. If you are not comfortable using your mouth, you can always use your hands." He smiled at that possibility, and took the organ in his hands, massaging it gently, squeezing in the places that he'd felt the most amazing sensations when Severus had touched him. He explored Severus carefully, noticing the different textures of his skin, and especially marveling at his balls as he gently fondled them. Harry was getting aroused himself as he touched Severus, both from the noises that Severus was making and the feel of this incredible man allowing him to do these things to him. It seemed to be more than just a physical arousal, although that was quite evident as he began to get hard again himself. His magic was reacting to this, too. It was pulsing within him, everywhere. As he grasped Severus, and focused in earnest in bringing him to the point of release, he could feel the magic in his hands pulsing out to Severus.

Apparently, Severus felt it, too. He had reconciled himself to an evening of marginal satisfaction, when it appeared that Harry was more timid than he might have hoped of a Gryffindor, when a jolt of magic went into him at the place it was going to do the most good at the moment. He arched his back with a loud groan, clutching the pillow under his head. The magic was not abating; it was on his skin and moving inside of him, and it felt like nothing he'd ever felt before. The external stimulation of Harry's hands coupled with the internal stimulation of Harry's magic brought him to the point that his eyes went back in his head, he lost the ability for conscious thought, and he gave himself over to the most intense orgasm he'd ever experienced, coming and coming and coming for what felt like eternity. He literally lost his breath.

When he was able to focus his eyes again, the first thing he saw was Harry, looking very pleased with himself, splattered with cum. Severus' coordination was a bit longer in returning, but eventually he was able to get his arms under him to push himself up to rest on his elbows. "That was OK, Severus?" Harry asked, suddenly timid. Severus could not control the chuckle that escaped before he could answer, causing Harry a moment of concern, until Severus followed that chuckle with "Merely OK, Harry? I never experienced anything like that in my life! What did you do to me?"

"I think my magic got involved. I started to feel it stirring and pulsing in me as I touched you, and I think it was in my hands, too."

Severus looked at him intently. He'd never had a relationship with anyone who was not a wizard, so all of his sexual experiences had been with people who had magic. And yet never in his life had the presence of his own or someone else's magic resulted in anything even remotely like that happening. Not that it was a bad thing, of course, but, Merlin, it took his breath away and wrung him dry. He sat up and pulled Harry to sit between his legs, the better to kiss and stroke him. Noticing Harry's arousal, he began to stroke him there, much as Harry had just done to him. Before the younger man was too far gone for speech, he asked "Can you tell me if you did anything that made your magic do that?" Harry could only shrug. "It just happened."

Severus tried closing his eyes and focusing inward, on his own magic. He realized that he could feel a pulsing, something he was pretty sure he'd never felt before. It gradually suffused him, filling every pore, pulsing in time as he stroked Harry. When he felt confident that he would not lose this sensation by opening his eyes, he dared to do so, looking right into green eyes that were now filled with lust and unable to focus. Several expert strokes later, with the magic pulsing in him and apparently being felt by Harry, the younger man erupted again with a prolonged orgasm that threw him back limply against Severus' chest.

As Harry recovered, Severus gently got them both under the covers, and allowed Harry to get comfortable. Instead of spooning as he'd done other nights, he went to sleep facing Severus, with his head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Severus cradled his head and played with the dark strands as he stared at the ceiling.

What an evening!


	11. Ch 88 Back to Business

[With apologies for messing up my first effort to post this new chapter!]

Chapter 88 – Back to Business

Severus awoke quickly, as was his habit, going from slumber to wide awake in an instant. However, he was immediately if vaguely aware that something was different. His arms tightened instinctively around Harry, still nestled in his arms, snoring softly as he slept with an ear pressed against Severus' chest. He allowed his hand to card through the tousled dark locks as he contemplated the events of last evening. He would cherish forever the intimacy they shared, and he looked forward to future evenings cooking with Harry. As much as he would have enjoyed ruminating on those two things, he had to address the things that Harry had told him as they sat by the shores of the lake. There were parallels here to the eye of Odin that reinforced the suspicions that he and Albus shared. Perhaps between the two of them, they could develop some understanding of this and what it meant.

But what felt different? It bothered him that he could not put his finger on this instantly, but accepted that the things of most immediate concern seemed to be fine. He would let his mind ponder it while got about doing what he needed to do today.

Severus slowly extricated himself from Harry's grip, being very careful not to wake the young man, although the movement did begin the slow process of Harry's gradual awakeing.

By the time Harry was up and dressed and joined him in the sitting room, Severus was already half-way through some correspondence from the Potions Masters Guild, reporting on their progress in evaluating the potiont that he had submitted for their review, the cure for lycanthropy. He was surprised at the speed with which that notoriously sluggish body was moving here, although few of the submissions they received were accompanied with the level of publicity and general public interest as that had been.

Severus looked up when Harry entered the room, noticing immediately an air of uncertainty and shyness. Back to this again? Why, with Gryffindors, was it always one step forward, two steps backward? Are they wired that way?

Fortunately, as a Slytherin, Severus was capable of observing and recognizing these patterns in others, and he was now ever so slightly better prepared. Gryffindors were ultimately not entirely predictable, but he'd noticed that allowing a mood like this to go unaddressed just made things worse. He envisioned an internal dialog that kept spinning and spinning until the power of centrifugal force sent it flying off in some totally unpredictable direction.

He stood as Harry neared his chair on his way to collect a cup of tea, and intercepted the young man as he passed. Lifting Harry's chin so he could not pursue that annoying habit of studying the floor, he offered a smile and a warm "Good morning, Harry" and a kiss. Placing his hands on Harry's shoulders, he asked "What is troubling you?"

The uncertain expression remained as the young man just shrugged.

What Harry could not bring himself to explain was how sad he felt awakening in a bed all by himself, left to go through his morning routine all alone in the bathroom. It had been just that one time, yesterday, but he had really enjoyed sharing the early morning time with Severus. Showering together had been mindblowing, but he'd relished the intimacy of the entire experience. Harry concluded that it was not something that he would experience every day, but he had hoped it would happen again. That also brought to mind his insecurities about his body. Had Severus been so unsatisfied with him last night that he could not stand the sight of him the next morning – he'd had to get up and dressed and out of there before Harry got up and put his scrawny body on display?

Severus had no idea what was going on in that lovely head, but he did recall the incident with the Heartstone. Harry had assumed that Severus had discarded his gift when he found the stone on the floor, and had clearly been taken aback when Severus contrived to make it clear that he had been wearing that stone all along, and had accidentally torn it off in his frantic efforts to attack his Dark Mark the night of the Calling. With his luck, Harry was convincing himself of something awful right now, something that utterly disavowed what happened last night.

Severus squeezed Harry's shoulders firmly but gently. "Thank you again for having that special dinner with me last night, Harry. I found the evening most enjoyable. Do you think that we might do that again, some time soon?"

Harry's relief was evident in his eyes, and Severus had to restrain himself from showing his jubilation at having guessed the reason for his distress so quickly. Harry needed reassurance, and he'd managed to deliver! Into Harry's hesitation in answering Severus' question, he purred and encouraging "Mmmm?" and raised Harry's head again for a kiss. When they surfaced from that delightful interruption, Harry nodded happily.

Breakfast in the Great Hall was a typical Saturday morning affair, with a balance of students who stayed up way too late on a Friday night now groggily coming to grips with the food before them, and others up and excited. Of course, as classes had been canceled for most of the week, this day was not all that different from the others before it, but it was still Saturday and that made it special. Ron was more quiet than usual and Hermione was a bit testy, but Neville more than made up for their silence with his growing panic over his tea later that day with his Gram. Harry was glad that Neville had commitments to keep in the greenhouses, both to get him moving and to give him a distraction. A few of the warriors of the Winter Lands had approached him for advice on plants for their newly-recovered farms, having seen the way Professor Sprout trusted him with her plants and with the management of all the Hogwarts greenhouses. He and they discovered a surprising array of common interests, and he'd been spending time, after getting the squibs assigned to their tasks, working with the warriors on assembling some useful plant cuttings to bring north with them.

"I have to go upstairs to work on translations. Anyone want to come along?"

Ron decided to go flying instead, as it was a beautiful day and he'd missed the freedom of time on his broom, but Hermione was happy to join him. Charlie needed to get back to Romania for a few hours, and he knew that a distraction would keep Draco in a better frame of mind while he was gone. He suggested that Draco go along with Harry and Hermione, and with minimal reluctance, Draco agreed.

Albus confirmed to all the staff at the table that classes would resume come Monday, a welcome relief to those who were also Heads of Houses. Most of the older students were helping out, either in the school or on Ministry teams, but the younger ones were running about and needed constant supervision. They could work out any arrangements needed to allow support for Ministry efforts while getting the students prepared for their finals, OWLs and NEWTs.

When the meal was over, Severus accompanied Albus up to his office, to discuss his concerns about some of the things Harry had told him the night before.

Once they were settled into their seats, Albus behind his desk and Severus in one of the arm chairs before it, Severus explained his concerns. "Harry shared some additional things about the ravens he sees, how they help him focus on the things that need his attention at a particular time, or call things to his attention. And we discussed his ability to see paths before people. He's going to check to see if he can see paths before people at will. He told me that up until now, the paths just appeared before him at certain times, and when I challenged him to see if he can summon this vision, he agreed to try to do that, if he can control it in any way. What on earth do you think this means, Albus?"

"I've been giving this a great deal of thought, my boy. I suspect that there might be a parallel between what we are seeing now and what happened fifteen years ago when Voldemort attempted to kill Harry. In the release of all the energy when Voldemort's Avada Kedavra deflected off of Harry, some of Voldemort's powers were transferred to Harry, resulting in such things as his becoming a Parselmouth. Maybe that happened again."

"But the explosion when Harry stole the Eye of Odin from Voldemort was just a stone exploding, not a powerful wizard being relegated to the ether!"

"Ah, but remember, Severus, the Eye of Odin was reputed to be Odin's actual left eye, sacrificed at Mimir's well in exchange for Mimir's knowledge. It could well have contained Odin's magic within it. Is it not possible that in the energy that accompanied it's destruction, some element of Odin's magic transferred to Harry? That would explain why the two ravens appear to him, almost as familiars would, and why he suddenly has this ability to see the sort of things that were associated with Odin's knowledge."

"Do you think that is a benign transferrence, or something that might be problematic for Harry? Especially that it's happened before?"

"Consider, even the powers he got from Voldemort were not a problem to Harry. The link between them was probably forged at the same time, but that's was a separate process, I believe. So Harry is a Parselmouth – that's just a skill he has that he did not have before. It is neither good nor bad, it just is. Quite likely, this is the same. He now has access to some of the sight that Odin had, both from the ravens now favoring him with the information that they gather every night as they roam the world, and his ability to see the strands of fate at times. Most likely, he will find himself better able to control all this as time passes, to summon the ravens to him when he wishes to see them, and to look for the strands of fate rather than passively wait for them to appear at times. Again, just skills that he did not have before."

Severus took that in. He'd spent a good deal of time himself ruminating over what all this meant, with great concern. He had always associated the Eye of Odin with power in battles, and in the ability to compel and bend others to the will of its holder. At least Albus had found a different direction to consider, one that was a bit less frightening. Harry had absorbed powers before, and was dealing with that, so maybe it happening again was something he'd be able to take in stride. It was certainly better than the thoughts that had been tormenting him!

"Thank you for your insights, Headmaster. Your approach to this is more comforting than the one that immediately occurred to me. I will give this more thought."

"Before you go, Severus, I have something else I'd like to speak to you about." The younger wizard sat back in the chair from which he was about to stand, with curiosity on his face.

"I got an urgent owl from the editor of the Daily Prophet this morning. He states that people in the wizarding world are scared right now, and he feels the need to add a column on practical defensive magical spells."

Severus had heard that before, and as he'd once explained to Miss Granger, the average wizard is utterly useless at defense against anything dark, or perhaps more accurately, at defense against anything at all. With a look of pained annoyance (a look he did particularly well), he responded "That again! Albus, you know as well as I that the people clamoring for this information are the least likely to do anything with it. Most wizards just can't deal with this. You saw what happened in Hogsmeade!"

"I know, I know. However, in these extraordinary times, feeling that they have some control, some ability to remain safe, will in itself make people feel better, and who knows, someone might actually find that they can do something, if they are confronted with a threat. Frankly, I'd rather that we have some input into these articles, to be sure that the Prophet is providing reliable information, rather than have this handled by someone who knows absolutely nothing but presents himself or herself as an expert."

In his mind, Severus clearly saw the face of Guilderoy Lockhart, but he wisely chose not to share that observation.

"I was thinking that this would be something that I might ask Augusta Longbottom to handle. She was an Auror years ago, and is a very practical person."

If Albus was thinking that he was going to object to Mrs. Longbottom taking on his task, insisting that he was better suited, he was wrong. Severus had quite enough to do, thank you very much, and if Albus wanted to scare half the world to tears with the fierce bluntness for which that woman was renowned, that was his call. "I'm sure she'll be an excellent guide to those in need of such assistance."

"Well, we'll see if she is amenable to taking on this task. She asked for an appointment to see me later, as I gather she's chosen not to return to her home for now. Will you be joining Harry in his offices this morning?" Albus asked as the younger wizard stood to take his leave. Severus nodded in response to the question, and took his leave with a curt "Good day, Albus."

As he exited the Headmaster's office, he ran into Professor Sprout, accompanied by a young woman who looked vaguely familiar. He thought her name was Amaranth Ellisford, or at least that's what it had been when she attended Hogwarts. She was a decent enough Potions student, but preferred the ingredients end, and spent more of her time on Herbology. He nodded cordially to the two women as he passed, on his way to check in on Harry.

Professor Sprout re-introduced Amaranth Ellisford Savoy to the Headmaster, who recalled her time as a student instantly and shared some reminiscences with her. "Albus, Mrs. Savoy approached me about starting up a program for the squibs who are new to magic, to acquaint them with our world. We realize that you will be resuming classes next week for the students, and many of the other wizards now residing in the castle will be working on the Ministry efforts to control the damage and restore the muggle world, so we would like to offer some evening programs, after dinner things, very informal."

Amaranth added her own thoughts. "Professors, I had invited one of the squibs to join me for lunch in my tent, as she had never experienced wizard space, and I thought she'd find it interesting. Unfortunately, I summoned one of my house elves when she looked a bit overwhelmed by the experience, and she fainted dead away." Albus nodded – he, like just about everyone else, had heard all about the house elf incident. "I will be staying on at the castle with my two little ones, helping Professor Sprout in the greenhouses, and would be delighted to work up a syllabus of the aspects of the wizarding world that might need some explaining, and identify some speakers."

"Mrs. Savoy, such a generous and kind thing to do! We have some resources that we use when delivering letters to Muggle-borns being invited to Hogwarts; I'm sure Professor Sprout can share those with you. If you wish to arrange for these programs, we most certainly can make one of the classrooms down nearthe Great Hall available, and you can let me know when you plan to commence the program and how often it will run. I'll announce it at lunch and dinner on the day you will begin the class."

Both women were very pleased with the Headmaster's support for this project, and they bustled out deep in conversation about what sort of things were most important to share with the squibs, how to present things, who might be willing to assist. They did not notice the small woman in the odd-looking dress and outrageous hat standing off to the side of the vestibule, admiring the view from one of the windows. Hearing them depart, she turned and made her own entrance into the Headmaster's office.

"Albus, thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice."

"Augusta, it is always a pleasure!" he replied as he escorted her to a chair by the fireplace. "Tea? Lemon drops?" She nodded curtly to both, and as soon as they were brought, she accepted a black tea and took several lemon drops that she placed on her saucer.

"Someday, I must track down whoever makes these for you, Albus. I've never had lemon drops quite as good as the ones you always have on hand." The older man glowed at the praise for his favorite candy. He often felt he was foisting his treasures onto people who at best accepted them to be polite, and he was pleased to find someone as enthusiastic as he was.

Augusta got a steely look in her eye, which piqued Albus' curiosity. "I've been doing a great deal of thinking since the Calling, Albus. I always knew I was a strong witch, and back in my days as an Auror, I could pretty much get myself out of any situation. I was just starting out when Grindelwald was wreaking havoc, shortly before you defeated him. Some very alarming things were going on. I took most of my skills for granted. When my son and his wife became incapable of taking care of my grandson, I thought nothing of retiring from the Auror corps and devoting myself to raising the child. But now, he's getting older and he'll be on his own soon. I don't think I want to return to being an Auror; I'm sure I'm more than capable, but that's a young person's game. But, as I looked around the circle at the Calling and considered the place I occupy in our world, I realized that the time has come for me to step up and do something. "

The two continued a conversation from that point that lasted for over an hour, and two significant subjects were discussed, with satisfactory outcomes agreed to on both. The immediate outcome of the meeting was Albus escorting Mrs. Longbottom over to Harry's office, to introduce her to Hermione Granger.

When Albus asked Augusta to write columns on practical defensive magic for the Daily Prophet, she was pleased to do this, but requested that someone else be assigned to co-author them. Writing was not her strong suit, and she'd been told in the past that her written work was too harsh and blunt. She asked that a talented student assist her, to give the material a more fresh and current tone, more understandable to the Daily Prophet readership. She was quite pleased when Albus suggested Hermione, as Neville had mentioned her several times as one of his and Harry Potter's friends.

As he expected, Albus found Harry, together with Severus, Hermione and Draco Malfoy seated around the large table, each hard at work on their own project. Harry was softly muttering to a charmed quill that transcribed his words to a parchment as he read from an ancient text, Severus had the contents of a large file from the Potions Masters Guild spread out and was reviewing it while taking notes, and Hermione had a stack of parchments and several large books before her that she and Draco were consulting. Mrs. Longbottom was particularly pleased that Harry not only recognized her from the Calling, but commented on having seen her there in front of the others. She was quite reserved in her greeting to Draco Malfoy, considering his family connection to Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione was not cowed by the older woman, a fact that impressed all the men in the room, and seemed quite pleased to be invited partner with her on articles for the newspaper. She actually made room beside her at the table and invited Mrs. Longbottom to join her and Draco in reviewing some of the work she, Ron and Harry had done last year.

To Severus' eyes, Albus looked inordinately please with himself as he hustled back to his office, having deposited Mrs. Longbottom with them.

X X X X X X X X X X

Amaranth was very pleased to find an empty seat next to Petunia Dursley in the Great Hall at lunch. "Oh, Petunia, I'm so glad to see you up and about! I am so sorry my house elf frightened you so! Can you ever forgive me? Are you alright now?"

Somewhat overwhelmed by the younger woman's breathless barrage, Petunia could not get out any kind of response before Amaranth took off again.

"I've just been with Professor Sprout to speak to the Headmaster about starting up an evening program for all of you who are new to magic, to introduce you to the wizarding world and acquaint you with the things that you'll find here. It's very exciting, and I'm sure you'll all benefit from attending. In fact, maybe we can work together this afternoon in the greenhouses and discuss what you think might be most concerning to someone new to our world – that would be very helpful."

At the moment, Petunia's concern was that she was having a hard time holding her fork – her hand hurt every time she took hold of a fork or a spoon. She'd first noticed this right before she was released from the infirmary after she fainted, and she'd asked the nurse (or whatever that woman was) to check to see if she had injured a nerve or something in her fall. While Petunia put no faith at all in that wand waving nonsense that was the way they seem to diagnose problems here, the woman was adamant that she had no injuries to her nervous system from that fall. Given that Petunia's hand felt fine any time she was not trying to hold a fork or spoon, she wasn't quite sure what as going on. She just nodded vaguely at the young witch, who immediately sensed Petunia's discomfort, but misunderstood the reason for her friend's apparent distress.

Speaking much more softly, and with a very sympathetic look, she leaned in. "I know, getting used to the food here might be a challenge. The house elves at Hogwarts have a definite cooking style – very rich and heavy, and if you aren't used to this sort of food, it can take your system a while to adapt. I'm sure it will pass."

As Petunia geared up for a response along the lines that it should surprise no one that non-human creatures could not produce particularly fine cuisine, a belch escaped, to her mortification, earning her a more sympathetic look and a pat on the arm from Amaranth. That also clarified what the young woman meant by her sympathy, making Petunia feel even worse.

Just as Petunia returned to staring at her silverware with a pained expression, a young man wandered by, who apparently was a family friend of Amaranth's and who was immediately invited to join them at the table. "It's been years, Eustace! You're looking well. Tell me, still working at the family firm?" The young man (where on earth did his parents come up with the name "Eustace"?) moved to take the seat to which Amaranth directed him, and Petunia got a good look at him. He was pleasant enough looking, in a haughty way. It was clear that his clothes were expensive, as the tailoring was precise and the fabric sumptuous. If she had to sit with someone in the ridiculous clothing favored by the people here, at least this one clearly spent some money on his.

Amaranth kept up the chatter, informing Petunia that Eustace Landon and her brother were friends from their fencing academy days, and he was a frequent visitor to her childhood home, and that he had gone on to work in the family business, sourcing high-quality potions ingredients. She then proceeded to inform Eustace that Petunia was the aunt of a Hogwarts student who had just learned that she actually had magic herself, and was in the process of learning about the wizarding world.

Eustace noticed that Petunia was having a problem with the silverware, and inquired. He had no explanation for what could cause her discomfort, and the silverware looked fine to him, but he offered a solution. "Some of the old pure-blood wizarding families don't use this sort of silverware at all, they use a utensil that dates back far before this stuff came to fashion." Reaching for a slender knife that was among the utensils in her place setting, he offered it to her. "This is a scramasax, a dagger. It is considered quite polite among many here to spear your food with this, and eat it from the dagger. With a little practice, you can cut meat or larger food items with it, and then just spear the cut bits to eat. You can easily avoid forks altogether, and minimize even your need for a spoon. Just be careful that you don't nick your mouth."

Petunia was immensely relieved to discover that she did not feel pain or discomfort in her hand when she held the dagger, and she thanked the young man profusely for his suggestion. She was intent on mastering this new utensil while the other two prattled on about their respective families, which spared her having to contribute to the conversation, which in turn assuredly spared her the embarrassment of an "episode" if she felt compelled to speak her mind about this new world in which she found herself. It was clear that the young man was quite the name-dropper, just by the way he mentioned names, even though she had no idea who most of those people were. He was thrilled to have met that awful Snape person, Harry's husband, and he also bragged about having met Harry Potter, which seemed to impress Amaranth. Petunia was too busy trying to cut a small piece of brisket with her dagger to offer a comment on that, although she did roll her eyes.

When the meal was over, Eustace took his leave, with a self-important comment about having a meeting with someone Petunia had never heard of. Amaranth eyed Petunia suspiciously, as she had noticed the eye-roll at the mention of Harry Potter and Professor Snape. As they walked down to the greenhouses, she broached that with Petunia.

"I noticed that you rolled your eyes when Eustace mentioned having met Professor Snape and Harry Potter. He does go on sometimes, quite the name-dropper and all. But given his family business, meeting one of the most renowned Potions Masters in the world was surely a thrill for him, and of course, then meeting Harry Potter – just about everyone in the wizarding world would want to meet him. Why did you react as you did when Eustace mentioned them?"

Petunia was really torn. More than anything, she wanted to tell this young woman what abnormal and disgusting freaks those two were, and how Harry paled in comparison with her wonderful Dudley. On the other hand, she knew that any such exposition on her part would be accompanied by a thoroughly embarrassing bout of flatulence. It had mortified her to learn that others were aware of her "problem" and blaming it on the need to adjust to the food served here.

She took a deep breath. She could not help the very sour expression that was on her face, but, by God, she'd try for a neutral response. "Potter is my nephew. We do not get along. I only just met Snape, and that did not go well, either."

There – she said it, and – a small hiccup escaped. Nothing more! Petunia's sour expression changed to one of relief.

"How sad that family members do not get along, Petunia. But he brought you here, didn't you say?"

Another deep breath. "Actually, two men who knew my sister when she attended Hogwarts came to collect me and my family and bring us here. I was the only one awake. That didn't go too well at all." OK. She could do this. She had to be careful, and really not say what she was thinking, but at least she could control herself enough to converse neutrally.

Amaranth wisely chose to drop the subject of Petunia's relationships with everyone she knew who was a wizard, as it appeared all of those interactions had "not gone well," as she kept saying. "So, do you think we should cover the moving paintings and photographs in my class? How about wizard space?"

X X X X X X X X X X

The hour was at hand. It was time for Neville to join his Gram for tea. He did his utmost to subdue the terror within him, and went as directed down to the vestibule of the Great Hall. The formidable Augusta Longbottom was already waiting for him, ignoring the occasional stares of others passing by who looked with alarm at the stuffed vulture perched on her hat.

Neville bent down to kiss her offered cheek. "H'lo, Gram. I hope you weren't waiting long for me." She nodded to him, and a small smile teased at her otherwise stern face. Neville allowed hope to grow – maybe he wasn't in trouble, although he could not imagine why she wanted to see him like this.

Augusta led Neville to a small parlor off the vestibule, one that Neville was pretty sure had not been there before. It was decorated much like the parlor at home – a lumpy couch, some stiff chairs, and a table with a tea set arranged on it, and too many ferns and other plants. She got them seated, and poured the tea. Neville sat quietly, waiting for her to speak, which usually was not a long wait.

"I've made some decisions that I'd like to discuss with you, young man. When I stood in the circle at the Calling, I was both proud and humbled to find myself among such a remarkable group. I felt that perhaps I needed to find a way to contribute to our world, but I wasn't sure what would be appropriate. After these recent events, I believe I know what I should do."

"I was an Auror long ago." Neville did not recall his Gram ever speaking of that, and his immediate reaction to the news was great distress – was she really planning, at her age, and at this time, to go back to such a dangerous job? She caught the look that crossed his face, and added quickly "I've no intention of resuming that job, don't worry."

She took a sip of her tea. "I started my career as an Auror during remarkably dangerous times. The last great dark wizard, Grindelwald, was rising, and wreaking his own brand of havoc on our world, and on the muggle world, as well. He was utterly ruthless, and quite mad. He lacked the cleverness of this current chap, who figured out how to connect his followers to him in a way that let him draw on their power, but even with just his own power to work with, he created mayhem. We needed all our wits about us, and we had to be ready for just about anything, if we had to deal with Grindelwald or his followers. They regularly summoned demons, not the monster Elder Demon that Riddle summoned, mind you; you really do need the linked powers of many wizards to pull that off. But even the smaller ones terrified people, and left wide paths of destruction behind them. It turned out that I was actually very good at banishing or destroying those things. An interesting knack, but there you go. I don't think I've heard of a demon being summoned since Grindelwald, until Riddle did that."

"I thought that Harry used one of his royal spells to banish that, Gram. Can regular wizards really banish demons?"

"Regular wizards can do quite a bit. Not on the scale of what Harry Potter can do, with the King's Banishment, mind, but still, we can do things to keep our world safe. And the stronger among us must step up. I met with Albus Dumbledore this morning and proposed that I stay on at Hogwarts and teach an adjunct course on defensive spells and tactics, to students and adults here and invited guests from other countries. Riddle seems to have rediscovered some of the dark magic that we have not seen for many years, and that many of the younger wizards and witches of today do not know and have never experienced. I do know this magic, and I know how to fight it. It might not be possible for me to lead the fight any longer, but I can train others to do it, and that's what I proposed. Albus agreed."

Neville was very proud of his Gram. Actually, he was always proud of her, even while being intimidated and sometimes downright scared of her, but this was special. She'd clearly been very moved by being among those Called when Harry was recognized, and she'd mentioned that experience several times to him over the last few days. He'd never heard her speak of her days as an Auror before, but he guessed that given what happened to his parents in their roles as Aurors, it was not something she'd be quick to discuss. He'd never realized that she was among the most powerful witches and wizards in the world before, and now to find out that she was among those who fought Grindelwald – that was an even bigger surprise.

"Gram, you're doing the right thing. Mom and Dad would be so proud of you. I'll be out of Hogwarts myself soon, so it's time that you pursued things that mean something to you, and helping the effort in this way is fantastic. I'm proud of you."

The tough old witch had to dab her eyes with a lacy hanky she fished out of the sleeve of her dress. Neville had been her pride and joy since he was born, and especially since she was left to raise him when her son and daughter-in-law were incapacitated by that Lestrange woman. She knew she was not a tender mother-figure to the boy, but she did her best, and she felt so pleased that he was proud of her for what she was doing.

"Albus also asked me to write a column for the Daily Prophet on practical defensive spells and such, and I'll be working with your friend, Hermione Granger. I met her this morning in Mr. Potter's office. She showed me some of the research she did last year, some of the spells she found."

"Yeah, Harry said that she taught him all the royal spells. She had found mention of them in her books, but she and Ron could not make them work, just Harry. It's funny, isn't it, that most purebloods, who've heard all the fairy tales as children, would have dismissed them as legends, but she thought to try them out."

"She is a very bright young woman, and was already working with the Malfoy boy on those old books, looking for other forgotten spells that might be useful today. Her research will help me with my classes, and some of it might be simple enough for Daily Prophet readers, as well. And, Neville, I want you to help me with my classes, too. You will be my teaching assistant."

The terror which had abated with the discussion of his Gram's plans came roaring back. "But, but, Gram – I can't teach! I don't have your power, and I can't possibly - - "

"Nonsense, my boy. You are a Longbottom, and it is time you started stepping up, too. You will do just fine."

[A/N: Thank you to dead feather for the idea of a "squib school" or lectures for the squibs to acquaint them with the magical world.]


	12. Ch 89 Departures and Arrivals

Chapter 89 – Departures and Arrivals

Sunday was a day of departure for many of those who had come to Hogwarts less than a week ago seeking protection.

Most wizarding communities were now more or less back to normal. Of course, a number of wizard homes required some repairs to address damage done when the people who lived there fell asleep, but especially in communities where magical people lived closer together, a sense of safety was restored incredibly quickly. A few witches and wizards who lived in more remote locations also decided it was safe enough for them to return to their homes, especially if those homes happened to be protected by state-of-the-art warding. Being in the castle, beneath the strongest wards in the world and protected by many of the strongest witches and wizards, to say nothing of the company of Winter Land Vikings camped outside the castle, might make a witch or wizard feel safe, but the truth of it was, it was noisy and crowded. Many were pining for a return to their private, quiet lives.

The wizarding world was going to resume its normal functions in the next week, as well. Word had gotten around the castle that classes for students would resume on Monday, so the families of students who had been enjoying an unscheduled visit realized that the students were going to be getting very busy with their studies soon. The Ministry of Magic's rescue and restoration efforts were moving into high gear, too, and it was asking all of its employees to resume full-time attendance at their jobs next week. Even though floo travel rendered it no less convenient to travel to Ministry offices from Hogwarts than from any private home, knowing that you needed to put in a full day's work (and sometimes quite a bit more than that) made the need for quiet rest during non-working hours even more important, which served to highlight how difficult it was to get quiet rest in the busy and crowded castle.

Even the squibs were being mobilized. As expected, many were going to become caretakers at some of the larger buildings where large numbers of muggles had been moved for safe sleeping. Others, especially those with special skills and knowledge of the muggle world, were needed to repair and restore the muggle infrastructure. Some elements of that infrastructure had not failed yet, but would, and soon, if no efforts were made to maintain them, where others had already failed and corrective action needed to be taken to get them working again soon.

Arthur Weasley had happened to overhear a discussion among several squibs and a few of the wizards who had spent some time living among muggles about something that sounded particularly mystical to him, restoring the Power Grid. His enthusiastic questioning amused many who had for so many years taken it for granted that, if one threw a switch in the wall, a light somewhere went on; this was a man who, by virtue of his magic could do so many truly extraordinary things and he was all excited over a functioning light switch!

Whatever the reasons, the areas around the floos, as well as those places outside the castle walls best suited to the use of a port key, were busy all day.

The Great Hall had already shrunk by one whole row of tables between breakfast and lunch on Sunday, when Hermione joined her parents for a farewell luncheon. Michael and Anna sat side by side, across from their daughter, all leaning in to speak privately in the very public space.

"Oh, darling, we've so enjoyed the chance to spend some time in Hogwarts Castle! The book you lent us, the self-updating one about its history, has been invaluable. I'd never imagined we'd get to experience this," Anna said.

"And that book that Severus gave us for Christmas about the history of the wizarding world, that was another book I don't think we'd ever imagined would mean to much to us," Michael added.

Hermione smiled happily. It had never occurred to her that she'd have the chance to share her Hogwarts experience in any way with her family, but to discover that her parents did have some magic, and then to have them visit her here was more than she could have hoped for. "I'm just thrilled that you had the chance to see Hogwarts, and meet some of my friends. I know you met some of them at the Burrow this past Christmas, but it's not the same as seeing all this. I only wish I'd been able to spend more time with you. It was such a busy week."

Michael and Anna had been quite busy themselves helping out in the infirmary, where the medical training that they'd gotten as part of their dental studies was put to significant use. They did not know exactly what Hermione had been up to, but they did hear Professor Dumbledore mention that she'd been part of a very small group, including the headmaster and Severus, who'd come up with some spell of great importance to them. Even with the chance to be in the school with her, they realized that she was integrated into this strange world to a degree that they would never understand.

"It was still wonderful. You told us about the paintings that moved, but frankly, until that old man in the painting on the stairs wished me good day and complimented me on my dress, I just did not full comprehend what that meant. And ghosts. I have to admit, your father and I were a bit apprehensive when we heard about that, but I've had the most delightful chats with the Ravenclaw lady – she's been around a few times, and once she brought that fellow in the fancy old-fashioned clothing – Sir Nicholas, I think. Fascinating people."

"And we met some of your other friends and teachers, which was very nice. Minerva invited us to join her and some of the other professors for drinks one evening, and we had a wonderful time visiting with them. To see people transforming things into other things right before your eyes, or making things move with a wave of their wands is still amazing to me. And she turned herself into a cat! And, darling, I don't really believe I understand all the magic you did, but watching that big casting when you all sent that light into the earth, that was something I don't think I'll ever forget. You are obviously someone others look to for insight and assistance, and that makes me proudest of all."

Michael's look of admiration for his daughter was matched by the look on the face of his wife, and Hermione nearly burst with pleasure. Making her parents proud of her was always very important to her, and she was so glad that they now understood enough of this world to realize that she was doing things about which they could be proud.

"So, where will you be staying in London? And do you know what you'll be doing?"

"We know we'll both be working at St. Mungos hospital. I gather they have taken in quite a few muggles with injuries or illnesses and need some assistance with addressing some muggle conditions, understanding the general muggle approach to medicine. The administrator tells us that they are creating small flats for volunteers to use while they are working there; I believe he said they are attached to the hospital. We're told that there are magical connections between here and there, floos? But as we're not used to that sort of travel, the administrator recommended that we plan to stay there most of the time."

"We heard about the evening programs here at Hogwarts for squibs new to the magical world, and we want to come back here those evenings. Will you let us know when those are? Maybe we could have dinner with you, and then attend the program," Michael offered. Hermione smiled at her parents as she nodded agreement.

Her mother leaned in, a signal that some gossip was to be shared. "And, tell me, how is your friend Harry doing? We've heard all the talk about him being the king. How is he holding up?" Hermione smiled at that; her mother could never resist a little gossip, but did not want others to overhear her indulging in it.

"He is doing fine, Mom. His family and his friends are always here for him, and that's what matters to him to most. We are all working together to help him handle the things everyone looks to him to handle, and I think he likes that we make things normal for him."

"I overheard someone say that you taught Harry some of the spells he's been using," Michael commented, leaning in himself to join the private conversation.

"Believe it or not, that's where not being from the magical world worked to my advantage. We found books with ancient spells, and I worked them out and taught them to Harry and Ron, but when we tried to use them, only Harry could get them to work. One of the spells we worked on was something that is found in some well-known wizarding fairy tales. I found spells that only the king can use, according to the fairy tales, but I didn't know that, so we tried them. It turned out that the fairy tales were true. Harry was the only one who could make them work, because of who he is. And I worked with the Professors and some ancient texts that Harry translated for us to come up with some other spells we've used."

"I have to admit, I was a bit shocked about his being married, and to a professor," added Michael.

"Lots of people were shocked by that. It's a long story about what led to Harry's needing to get married right away at the start of term, what with the Minister of Magic wanting to adopt him and take him out of Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore had an ancient artifact, called the Marriage Stone, which is supposed to identify a person's soul mate. When he spoke Harry's name, the Stone identified Professor Snape. Everyone was horrified, but Professor Dumbledore seemed quite pleased. Shocking as it sounds, I think it's actually working out very well for the two of them. I think they are gradually finding that they have genuine feelings for each other – I would not rule out that they will yet fall quite in love. Harry has always wanted a family of his own, more than anything. He seems to be finding that with Severus, and even with Sirius and Remus. It's quite remarkable."

"Speaking of Remus – did we not hear that he's now a member of your government?" Michael wanted to know.

Hermione laughed at that. "You heard right. The Ministry went totally out of control last week, all sorts of craziness going on, and the result of that was that a number of members of the Wizengamot were replaced, following some ancient rules. A seat on the Wizengamot was claimed by one of the oldest werewolves, who was so impressed with the news of Remus' cure, he named Remus as his heir, and he asked Remus to take the seat. I told you in a letter that Remus' lycanthropy has been cured. Professor Snape was able to brew that potion in the book that Harry gave him, and it worked for Remus. You saw Professor McGonnagal transform into a cat? Well, Remus can now transform at will into a massive werewolf!"

Michael and Anna shared a look. This world is stranger than they'd ever imagined, and their daughter took it all so in stride.

Anna had one more question, as mothers often do. "And your friend Ron. How's he doing? How are things going there?"

Sadly, that was the one sore spot in an otherwise quite lovely lunch, and there was a bit of frost in Hermione's answer. "Ronald still has some growing up to do. He's a lovely person, and I hope we have a future, but he's so backward sometimes. We've had some issues recently, that's all."

"Well, he does seem like a fine young man, and he comes from a loving family, and that's important too. Give it time, Hermione. I think he'll be a keeper, in the long run."

That made Hermione feel better than she'd felt all day.

X X X X X X X X X X

Remus and Sirius arrived at the door to Severus' and Harry's rooms not too long before lunch. Severus stood aside with a pained look on his face to allow the two entry to their rooms, where Harry was sitting on the sofa with one of his translation projects in his lap, and Severus had been reading in an armchair, before this interruption. The two nodded their greetings to Severus as they entered.

"How are you doing there, Harry?" Remus asked, as he settled on the other end of the sofa.

"I'm developing my skills as a translator." That earned Harry a small smile from Severus, who had lingered at the door, looking rather ill at ease, rather than resume his seat. "I am trying to finish translating the notes written by Silvius Ventus that Lord Aventine gave us, on vampires. I've been working on the books that Mr. Malfoy shared before, because I assume he'll be wanting them back soon and we want that knowledge, but we promised not to remove them from the rooms in the tower, and I did not want to have to sit up there all day. At least these documents I can work on down here."

Almost in spite of himself, Sirius was curious. "What sort of stuff is in there?"

"Heavy-duty potions, which isn't surprising since these are a Potions Master's notes. Severus has been helping me. Sometimes the words translated individually don't make much sense without some context, so we discuss the words I see and figure out how they should be translated to make sense in English. Vampires did not come about as the result of a potion gone wrong in the first place; their condition is from a curse, so the potions angle seems to be more tangential than we saw with Slytherin's work on werewolves. Ventus did have some theories on potion therapies that would negate the impact of a vampire bite, which we are translating right now. From what I scanned on a first reading, I think he had some ideas for potions that would change the condition itself, but I'm not sure exactly how. We're working through the notes in order, and once the translations are finished, Severus will start his testing, or maybe get the Potions Masters Guild involved, if he's too busy."

Severus schooled his face to reflect boredom with this topic, although in truth, he was curious at the visit by the mutt and wolf, and wondering in particular at Sirius' most uncharacteristic interest in something as arcane as this centuries-old potions research.

Almost as if he sensed Severus' curiosity, Remus announced the reason for the Sunday morning visit.

"Madam Bones had sent an owl that she was reconvening the Wizengamot, and asked that all members assemble there on Sunday afternoon. Sirius and I discussed our options, which included us staying in Hogwarts and I would floo to the Ministry every day, but Sirius wants to get involved in some of the Ministry projects. So – we decided that we'll reopen the house on Grimmauld Place and move there for a bit."

Noticing Harry's crestfallen expression, Sirius added "It would be more convenient all around to clean out the musty old place now, and stay there. We can take the floo or a port key back to Hogwarts frequently to see you on weekends."

Severus noted Harry's sadness at the news, and while he was pleased to be rid of the two, he felt a flare of jealousy at the impact this clearly had on Harry. He suspected, but not with total certainty, that his own departure might result in some similar sadness, but that small uncertainty let the jealously and insecurity loose within him. He managed to restrain himself from making any comment that might be seen as rejoicing at the departure of the mutt and his wolf. Wanting to give Harry some privacy to say goodbye, he excused himself. "I have a potion brewing that will need some attention for a while."

As soon as Severus was gone, Sirius said "Harry, don't be so glum! We'll be back often, even if just to harass your bondmate." That earned him a small smile.

"And, I've already asked Madam Bones to make an exception to the rules governing floos in Ministry offices. She's going to have the floo in my office set up to allow a confidential connection to the Headmaster's office, so if it is necessary for you, or Albus or Severus to attend to a matter at the Ministry, you can arrive privately in my office, rather than through the bank of floos in the lobby." Harry perked up at that. While he'd not had to go to the Ministry all that often since all this started, the fuss that always accompanied his arrival in the public floos was high on his list of least favorite parts of a visit to the Ministry. It would be so much better to be able to arrive without all that fuss and bother.

"I'd like Severus to use that connection whenever he goes to the Ministry, after what happened on Tuesday, when he had to duel his way out of the place, with your help. I shudder to think what might have happened, if you hadn't been there to help him." It was clear to both men that the memory of those duels had bothered Harry, beyond the very impressive display of wandless magic with which he had ended those duels. His eyes betrayed his distress, as did his hands, which were presently twisting a corner of his robes into knots.

"Pronglet, did we not hear that Severus' has been teaching you to duel?" Sirius asked, trying to distract Harry from the maudlin turn his thoughts apparently had taken.

Harry did seem lifted a bit by that question. "We've spent some time in the Room of Requirement, and he's tried to teach me. I'm never going to be more than marginally competent, I certainly could never hope to duel for real. It's more a form of exercise, or a stress-reliever for me. I do enjoy the lessons, though."

Remus hid a smirk behind his hand. He'd seen some lessons in swordplay in his time, as an observer, not a participant, and realized what might be the attraction to Harry. The process of teaching another to duel involved surprisingly intimate physical contact. While Sirius had learned dueling to the extent that he was now a very accomplished swordsman, he'd learned very young, and probably never appreciated the kind of contact that was necessary when an adult taught another adult to duel. It would be frightening to be there when Sirius figured that out, he mused.

"So, Sirius, what sort of projects do you plan on getting involved in? Nothing that might require an animagus registration?"

Sirius chuckled at the reminder, and nearly blushed at his recollection of the aftermath, although Harry couldn't possibly know about his punishment for his romp with Voldemort. "I'm not sure. I probably won't get involved in the search and rescue or protect work, whatever they call it now. I'll talk to the Aurors, maybe one of the planning offices. I'll find something to keep me occupied."

Some time passed as the three chatted, making plans to visit, and when Remus and Sirius finally took their leave for London, it was well after lunch. Harry went looking for Severus, who was still in his potions laboratory. "Thanks for being nice to Sirius and Remus, Severus. I appreciated the chance to hear what their plans are, and to say goodbye to them."

Harry's thanks were punctuated by a loud growl from his stomach, prompting a snort from Severus. "It is time for a break, I think. And, we have missed lunch. I'll summon a house elf and have some sandwiches sent up."

Harry stretched his arms over his head and twisted a bit, as if he was stiff from too much sitting. "I could use a bit of a break and a walk. Instead of asking that some food be brought to us here, let's get some food from the kitchens."

Severus seemed confused by that suggestion, prompting a look of some surprise from Harry. "Haven't you ever been to Hogwarts' kitchens? They're fantastic, and you can get pretty much anything you want, any time of day."

"I've lived and worked in this castle for years, and I never realized that anyone but house elves can get into the kitchens. How on earth did you learn about this?" Severus asked.

"It never occurred to me that everyone didn't know. Ron knew, probably from the twins, who might have learned from one of their older brothers. He showed me, and I imagine a few others. I've run into people from other houses down there. Come on, it's interesting."

Severus really did not need much persuading. He was a bit peckish himself, although thankfully his stomach did not feel the need to advertise that fact. He joined Harry in a stroll along the corridors out of the dungeons and toward the Hufflepuff common room and dormitories, as Harry told him about the plans of Sirius and Remus. Severus was a bit surprised when they stopped in front of one of the less inspiring pieces of art that graced the walls of Hogwarts, a very ugly still life of a bowl of fruit, more surprised to see Harry reach out to tickle the pear in the bowl, and completely gobsmacked when a door suddenly appeared. He followed Harry through the door and down a flight of stairs, to a large, bustling kitchen.

The house elves were beside themselves with glee to see Harry arrive in their midst, which Severus rather expected, given how the little creatures seemed to worship the young man. What he did not expect at all was the remarkable excitement with which his own appearance was met – they seemed just as thrilled to have him in the kitchens.

"Come, Master Harry Potter, have a seat! And Master Harry Potter's Bondmate, you sit here!" one of the elves cried, as she (or maybe that was a he, Severus was never really able to tell) pushed them along to a table set up in a corner. It was the same size of the seating upstairs in the Great Hall, too big for the diminutive house elves, so apparently witches and wizards did come down here with some frequency. Severus was nonplussed – he'd been a professor in Hogwarts for nearly 15 years, and had been known to whatever house elf ever answered his summons as either Professor Snape or Potions Master Snape, and suddenly they can't call him by his own name? Here, he's referred to only as Harry's bondmate?

Harry noticed that, too, and was waiting for an explosion from said bondmate. He was relieved that Severus let it pass without comment, although Harry was sure he noticed.

"We missed lunch, and were hoping that you might have something for us to eat," Harry said hopefully as they slid into the seats to which they were directed. Both Harry and Severus were astonished with the quantity of food that appeared instantly before them. A full roast turkey, a leg of lamb, a selection of steaming vegetables, glasses of chilled pumpkin juice, fresh biscuits, and even a pudding for desert. Harry tucked in immediately, and encouraged Severus to do the same. Their selections were noted and remarked upon by the elves attending them, to the point that Harry was carefully taking a bit from all the dishes to be sure none of the elves were offended or thought that whatever dish they "represented" was not satisfactory. Once again, Severus saw an aspect of Harry in a new light. He could easily imagine Weasleys – any Weasley – down here shoveling the food they liked into their mouths as fast as they could, unaware of the house elves watching them with such interest. But Harry was aware of their attention and mindful of their feelings, and was now eating some things Severus was pretty sure he really did not like, just so the house elves were not offended! His view of Harry as a spoiled and self-absorbed prat had evaporated months ago, but there was a graciousness here that Severus had never imagined was possible in someone who carried the Potter name.

Harry was amused at Severus' reaction to the attention he was getting from the house elves. He'd even seen Severus take a small serving of Brussels sprouts, a vegetable he knew the man detested, because he'd caught on to the fact that it mattered a great deal to one of the elves that his dish was being eaten. He smiled warmly at Severus for that.

When Harry and Severus finally stood to leave, the house elves again advanced with fervent pleas that they return soon, and hopes that they'd really enjoyed the food that was prepared for them. To Harry's secret glee, just as much fussing and attention was directed to Severus as to him, although Severus was unrelentingly called "Master Harry Potter's Bondmate"

X X X X X X X X X X

To Ron's eternal embarrassment, a very pregnant Molly was among a small group arriving on Sunday to live in the castle. He did love his parents, really, he did, but honestly, at their age – pregnant! He couldn't even think about this without a massive blush on his face.

He, Charlie, Draco and Ginny had been out on the grounds to welcome them when she and Arthur arrived by portkey. Molly was delighted to see them all, and fussed just as much over Draco as she did over her own children, leaving Draco now as embarrassed as Ron. He'd never actually stood that close to a woman who was that pregnant before, and he was mortified at the experience of receiving a hug that pressed him into that enormous belly. Charlie, having had lots of experience with his mother being pregnant, found the reaction of his brother and Draco very entertaining. Ron tagged along with Charlie and Draco back to the common rooms, while Ginny escorted her parents up to the Infirmary, where arrangements had been made for Molly to stay. Molly really preferred staying at the Burrow, where all was familiar and comfortable, but Arthur did not want her home alone this late in her pregnancy, given all that was going on in the world. His concern was shared by Poppy, into whose care she was being entrusted that afternoon.

The two women embraced as Molly entered the Hogwarts Infirmary.

"Molly, you are looking wonderful – the very picture of health! I reviewed your mediwitch's report, all is going well with your pregnancy. Based on your history with the others, we might not have to wait the full nine months, so we'll keep close watch on you." She bustled Molly and the others along through the large room to some private rooms at the rear. "Here, we have a private room at the back what will be yours; if you'd like, we'll get the house elves to work on it a bit, make it look more homey. Looks like you have plenty of help to get settled in, so I'll leave you to it and stop by later."

Unlike her brother, Ginny was very happy to have her mother at Hogwarts. "Mum, I was so worried about you, all by yourself at the Burrow. All the girls are excited about having a baby born at Hogwarts, so you'll have lots of company and attention here." Molly looked very pleased about that. Many women might have preferred some peace and quiet, but after all those years, and all those children, in truth, Molly was having a hard time getting used to the peace and quiet that now pervaded the Burrow. The prospect of lots of children around her was the best aspect of moving into Hogwarts now.

"And Hermione was telling us about a muggle custom – a "baby shower" – it sounds like great fun and we're going to do it." To her father's look of alarm, she continued "No, there's no actual shower, like with water, involved. It's a party, where people get together to shower a new mother with good wishes and gifts for the baby. It will be wonderful, I know. Here, let me help you unpack."

Molly slowly levered herself into a hastily-transfigured arm chair, while Ginny and Arthur unshrunk her valises and began to unpack them, placing the contents into a small chest of drawers and closet.

X X X X X X X X X X

Dinner that evening was surprisingly loud for the last night before school restarting on Monday. Many families had gone home, and even a number of the squibs were now moved out to work on recovery projects, and the students seemed to have a great deal to say to one another. Harry had managed to arrive at the same time as his Gryffindor classmates, so he was spared the always-embarrassing attention he tended to attract when he arrived after they'd taken their seats.

As the group settled in and took their usual spots to await the appearance of the food, Hermione reported that her parents had departed to work at St. Mungos, and Ginny shared that her mum had moved into a room in the Infirmary. Harry knew to look at Ron's face as soon as she said that, and grinned as a deep blush spread across his friend's face. Ron was so wonderfully predictable!

"Sirius and Remus came to say good-bye this morning. They're moving to the house at Grimmauld Place, since Remus will need to start attending meetings at the Ministry, and Sirius wants to get involved in some things there. They figured it would be more convenient to live in the city, but they said they'll be back to visit on weekends." Hermione patted Harry's arm, expecting that the departure of his godfather and Remus would have been upsetting to him. On closer inspection, though, she realized that he did not appear nearly as distressed about that as she might have expected.

"You'll never guess who'd never been to the Hogwarts kitchens until today." Harry offered.

"I wondered where you were for lunch," Ron chuckled. "I can't imagine it was either Remus or Sirius. Somehow, I believe that the Marauders found that within a week of arriving at Hogwarts, even if none of them had older brothers to pass along the information." The twins had shared this secret with Ron within a few days of the start of his first year, and Ron assumed that Charlie had told them where it was when they started. Everyone listening to this conversation knew all about the kitchens.

Not hearing anyone guessing who was introduced to the kitchens today, Harry finally answered his own question. "Severus had never been there! When Sirius and Remus left, we'd missed lunch, and I suggested a walk down to the kitchens. I can't believe that someone who's lived in the castle for as long as he has never found the kitchens."

"Of course, as a professor, he just summons a house elf and has them bring him food if he is hungry when it's not mealtime" Seamus observed. "Did anyone ever see any Slytherins down there? I've run into a few Ravenclaws, and maybe a Hufflepuff or two, but I don't think I ever saw a Slytherin. Was he impressed?"

"It was actually pretty funny. The house elves kept insisting on calling him "Master Harry Potter's Bondmate," rather than Professor Snape. He did not complain or correct them, but I know he noticed. And you know how they sometimes watch what you eat, when they bring you platters? To see if you eat all the dishes, or don't touch something they've served you?" Actually, none of the others who'd been to the kitchens had ever paid that much attention to the house elves while they were there, but no one wanted to admit that. "Well, I realized that they were watching, and it appeared to bother a few that we weren't eating some of the dishes, so I made a point of taking something from all the dishes, so no one was upset." Hermione was beaming at him as he said that. "Severus caught on, and was doing the same. I know for a fact that he really does not like Brussels sprouts, and he had several because they were one of the dishes we were served."

"Master Harry Potter's Bondmate?" Ron giggled. "That must have gotten under his skin!"

"If it did, he didn't let it show. The house elves come out with the strangest things, don't they?"

X X X X X X X X X X

Sunday evening was a very pleasant time for Harry. He'd spent some time with his friends after dinner, and then a few more hours with Severus in their rooms working on his translations. He was surprised how patient Severus was in discussing some of the concepts that were appearing in Ventus' notes. This was seriously Potions Master-level material, far beyond Harry's grasp, but they were working their way through what was shaping up as a pretty good translation.

Harry was stretched out with his feet up on the sofa and the notes perched on his stomach as he read them, and Severus was in his favorite arm chair by the fire. Harry noticed that he'd put his feet up on the coffee table, and smiled to himself. Severus managed to look so reserved and formal most of the time, even sitting in his armchair as he usually did with both feet on the ground and his back stiff. It was so good to see him relaxed and looking comfortable like that.

Their quiet evening was interrupted by Albus' head appearing in the fire grate, asking if he might step through. Severus resumed his typical posture as he replied, "Of course, Headmaster."

A moment later, the green flames flared and Albus stepped into the room.

"Ah, working on the vampire research, I see. Excellent! How is that coming along?"

"We are making adequate progress. They are very technical notes, so a certain amount of interpretation and analysis has to go into the translation, but we are moving along."

Albus smiled warmly at the two of them. "Good, my boys. I've always suspected that something could be done to help those afflicted with vampirism, whether there is something that can cure them or at least enable them to live safely with the rest of us without the stigma of their condition. They have it far worse than werewolves."

"And all is well with you both? I did not see you at lunch today."

Harry answered, "Sirius and Remus came by to tell us they were opening the house at Grimmauld Place and to say good bye, and we ended up missing lunch. We went down to the kitchens and got something to eat there."

"That would explain why you ate so lightly at dinner, then, Severus. I noticed that you did not eat much."

Severus now looked concerned, and Harry felt the same. Why on earth had Albus come down to see them? To discuss eating habits? Albus noticed the looks Harry and Severus exchanged.

"I heard the house elves discussing the visit of Master Harry Potter and Master Harry Potter's Bondmate to the kitchens this afternoon, and was curious about how that came about. I just wanted to be sure that things are alright here."

Now Harry was wondering if there was a problem with wizards visiting the kitchens – maybe that was forbidden? "We learned how to get to the kitchens from Ron's brothers, and have been going down there when we've missed a meal, or were hungry between meals, since first year. It's not just Gryffindors who go down there – we've seen people from other houses, as well. Is that a problem?"

"Oh, my goodness, there's no problem with students or faculty stopping down for food, although if we detect a pattern of unhealthy or overeating, we'd have to address that. I was struck by the reference to Severus as "Master Harry Potter's Bondmate" and thought to check to see that all was well."

"We're fine, sir. I noticed that they called Severus that when they welcomed us to the kitchens. We did not question them about it. They are always coming up with strange phrasing; I figured this was just another instance. Why would it mean that things are not well?"

Albus looked at Harry with an odd expression on his face. He knew that Harry was one of very few wizards who actually paid attention to house elves. Harry knew many of them by name, and often took the time to stop and speak to them. He generally treated them with the same courtesy as he showed to witches and wizards, which was most unusual. What Albus did not know was whether Harry understood the very unique grasp of magic that house elves had, and the great value of taking the time to listen to them. They often saw things that other magical beings, like wizards, could not see.

"They are very sensitive to things that are far too faint for most of the rest of us magical creatures to notice. They pick up on small things, and actually have an uncanny ability to understand how the small things fit into the larger picture. Remember, they were calling Voldemort "He Who Would Walk Alone" for quite a while before he actually cast the sleeping spell, and in retrospect, wasn't that an amazing feat of foreboding? The reference to Severus as your bondmate suggests that the bond has become more prominent, or at least they have sensed some difference."

Harry looked rather unconcerned about that information, but Severus looked a bit thoughtful. He clearly had something on his mind, but showed no sign of being prepared to speak about it right now. However, from Albus' perspective, whatever had resulted in this change in the bond did not appear to be anything that represented a reason to be worried that these two, his favorite boys, were in any difficulty.

After Albus took his leave, wishing them both "sweet dreams" (to Severus' everlasting annoyance), Severus moved from his seat in the armchair to the sofa, and Harry set aside the book they had been translating. "Severus, you did seem to be surprised by the Headmaster's observation about our bond. What do you think is going on?"

"I don't know. I will think on this a bit more, and might discuss it with Albus, ,maybe. When I awoke on Saturday morning, I did feel something slightly different, and I thought that it involved my magic in some way. That did not make any sense at the time, so I put it out of my mind. But now to hear Albus state that our bond has deepened, I am wondering if there has been some meaningful shift." With a very sly smirk, he added "I wonder if it had anything to do with the activities in which we engaged Friday night."

Harry looked horrified and embarrassed. "No, Severus, others can't know about that! That's private!"

"Of course, silly boy, they don't know details about what we did, but it does appear that in the process of doing it, we have strengthened our bond in some way. It's nothing for you to worry about, unless of course you had hoped not to move toward a matured bond."

Harry recognized the reference to his very ill-considered discussion of annulments, a conversation he'd regretted almost since the moment he'd broached the subject. In truth, he enjoyed Severus' company and found the man attractive. He felt no burning desire to sever his relationship with the man as soon as he reached seventeen. His destiny might or might not include a great love, and it was quite within the realm of possibility that his great love could actually be Severus. He'd come to believe that the Marriage Stone might actually know what it is talking about in identifying soul mates. It did bother Harry so, that Severus continued to be pained by thoughts that Harry wanted to be rid of him, when he had been nothing but a brilliant bondmate all along. He couldn't think of a better way to respond to the hurt reflected in that last thought shared by Severus than by showing the man that he did value their connection, and was looking forward to maturing their bond further. Harry slid across the couch, and put his arms around Severus. With a surprised glint in his eyes, Severus gently pulled the younger man into his arms, and accepted a deep and very insistent kiss from his bondmate, a kiss that left him breathless.


	13. Ch 90 Legal Maneuvers II

Chapter 90 – Legal Maneuvers II

While the wizarding world dealt with pressing issues like assuring that all those asleep would be in stasis and thus alive when they awoke, and preventing Voldemort from recasting his sleeping spell by removing his ability to draw on the power of those he'd marked with his Dark Mark, the Ministry was busy with pressing matters of its own.

The offices of all those who had lost their seats on the Wizengamot were emptied, and all contents pertaining to Ministry matters sequestered and catalogued. Early indications, based on a very quick assessment by the Aurors tasked with the work, suggested that Cornelius Fudge was not the only one who would be facing charges when all was said and done. Those now-empty offices that would be needed by others were cleaned and painted, and made ready for new occupants.

On a more strategic basis, teams from the various Ministry departments had prepared briefing scrolls on the most pressing issues expected to come before the Wizengamot from their areas of responsibility over the next few months. The Ministry Department of Wizardling Law had been working nonstop on its assessment of every piece of legislation enacted under the leadership of Minister Fudge, both in preparation for his trial for treason and to facilitate the work of the current Interim Minister and members of the Wizengamot in their assessment of what had been done so they could undo any enactments that were contrary to the good of wizarding Britain.

Sunday afternoon, as various new members of the Wizengamot arrived as she instructed, Minister Bones met with them individually to show them to their new offices, introduce the Ministry staff assigned to work with them, offer briefing scrolls on the most pressing issues of the day, and prepare them to assume their new duties when the group assembled in public session on Monday morning. The meetings with Lady Brand and Valerian Ventus were very quick, and the new members of the Wizengamot settled into the space assigned and made the acquaintance of the staff allotted to them.

Remus Lupin had one request to make, actually on behalf of Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore, who had take spoken to him before he left Hogwarts for Grimmauld Place earlier that day. Albus had never accepted an office at the Ministry for appearance's sake, so he requested a floo connection from Remuss' office to Hogwarts. The request for this connection was for the use of Harry Potter and Severus Snape, not his own. Under the circumstances, she recognized this as a very appropriate exception to standard Ministry protocol and immediately agreed to have the floo in Remus' office modified as he requested.

Lucius Malfoy was another matter altogether. He'd fussed over the offices allotted to him, and demanded that he be given a choice of spaces, since he had technically claimed ten seats. The space of those extra offices had been turned back to general Ministry purposes, and there were no longer extra offices available. Stuck with the offices assigned to him, he whinged about the location of the offices, arrangement of the space within them, the colors on the walls, the state of the carpet – nothing at all was satisfactory. Only once he was firmly disabused by Minister Bones of the idea that anything could or would be done by the Ministry to make these offices more to his liking, and she took her leave, did he summon one of his personal house elves, Herman, to discuss a redecorating project. Herman had long ago mastered Lucius' preferred decorating style, which many dismissed as stuffy and ostentatious but which Lucius was convinced exemplified his great wealth and elevated stature within the wizarding world. Herman and Lucius assessed and rejected the rather pedestrian furnishings provided by the Ministry. After some discussion and the careful taking of measurements, Herman apparated back to the storage rooms under Malfoy Manor to select an assortment of particularly impressive pieces from among the Malfoy heirlooms to become the decorating focal points of Lucius' new offices. While he made his selections, he dispatched some other house elves from the manor with specific instructions as to the paint to be applied to the walls, and others with instructions about refinishing the floors. Tomorrow morning, after he installed the Malfoy treasures in the freshly painted Ministry office, Herman anticipated a very pleasurable trip to some of the more exclusive shops in and around Diagon Alley to purchase those items still needed to complete the space.

Minister Bones was glad Lucius was the last of the new Wizengamot members to arrive on Sunday afternoon, as she really needed a brandy after dealing with him. The only hope she had was that if he devoted half as much energy and attention to the work of the Ministry as he did to decorating his office, things would go well for him.

Lucius himself returned to a small suite of rooms underneath Malfoy Manor after he was sure that his decorating needs were in Herman's capable hands. Unfortunately, significant parts of the Manor were themselves undergoing repair and restoration in the aftermath of his own fury when he realized that he could not answer the Calling and then the Dark Lord's visit last week. Between Lucius' fury and Voldemort's rage when Lucius and Eustace Landon had been able to floo out before he could catch them, they had completely demolished a significant portion of the Manor. Construction was under way, and making good progress, but it was messy and, worst of all, noisy.

A few centuries ago, a Head of the Malfoy family had seen fit to create a small place of sanctuary well guarded and shielded by strong wards in the ground beneath the Manor, to which the family could repair when things in the wizarding world got too dangerous, or until calmer heads prevailed. It was a matter of family lore that Lucius' great grandfather had used the rooms during a feud with another pure-blood family, but aside from that, only the house elves who kept it clean and ready for the family's use had been there. It was a bit cramped compared to the rooms in the Manor, but it was quiet and orderly. At least Lucius had the small apartment to himself. Narcissa was unlikely to be willing to return until everything was restored to its previous grandeur, and even then, Lucius anticipated she'd demand some bauble or jewel as a "gift" to entice her back to the Manor.

He, like his colleagues, spent some time before going to bed reviewing the scrolls that had been handed over or owled by Minister Bones. Unlike his colleagues, given his substantial knowledge of legal matters and Ministry procedures, he was spotting issues, anticipating arguments and approaches that would be taken, and working out all the implications of his possible responses to what might transpire when the Wizengamot met the next morning.

X X X X X X X X X X

The Wizengamot convened on Monday morning with substantially less drama than had been evident when it last met, the day that Harry Potter had sorted out the issue of who retained seats taken by duel during the time that Cornelius Fudge was unseated as Minister. It was a relatively subdued and orderly assemblage, with only a small handful of non-member observers in the gallery. Interim Minister Bones led the members into the chamber, waited for them to take their seats, and officially called the body to order.

The first order of business for the day was a discussion of the action to take regarding the Wizarding Registration Act apparently signed into law without authorization by former Minister Fudge. Before Minister Bones was even able to finish reading the agenda item to invite discussion by the members of the Wizengamot, she was interrupted by soft but very persistent coughs from one of the observers in the gallery. Looking over to the source of this annoyance, it did not really surprise Minister Bones to discover it was the ever-annoying Dolores Umbridge, pink bow in her hair. She sighed in annoyance.

"Miss Umbridge, is there a reason that you are disrupting this meeting?"

"As Senior Undersecretary to Minister Fudge, I feel it is my duty to assure that this body affirms the laws duly passed by his Administration," she replied in her soft, little-girl voice.

"As he was never authorized to sign this particular bill into law, and never disclosed an entire section of the proposed law to this body, it is indeed essential that this be discussed. Now then, do any members of the Wizengamot wish to speak in favor of ratifying the actions of former Minister Fudge?" Minister Bones emphasized "former" when she posed the question, and peered over her glasses to her left and right at the assembled members. Her question was greeted with silence.

"Alright then, I would like to speak in favor of repudiating those actions, and striking that law from our records. The initial premise, of requiring wizards to register with the muggle government, is one I believe we should reject. There is absolutely no even marginally compelling reason to do this. The second part of the act, involving vaccinations, is an outra . . ."

Before Minister Bones could go further, she was interrupted again by persistent little coughs from Miss Umbridge, at whom she cast a most malevolent glare. As if unaware of the growing anger of the sitting Minister, Dolores spoke again. "I must repeat, as Senior Undersecretary to Minister Fudge, and as a member of this body who has been wrongfully denied her seat, this body has no right to undo the laws that were duly enacted, and must in fact affirm the laws passed by his Administration."

"Miss Umbridge, you are no longer a member of the Wizengamot, and are here solely as a private citizen. Mr. Fudge is being held for criminal prosecution because of the manner in which he handled the matters under discussion . . . "

The remainder of Madam Bones' response was drowned out by the now-much-louder, and but still little-girl voice. "No, no, no! He was the duly elected Minister and the actions that led to his ouster were the illegal actions! You people have no authority to consider these matters! I demand that this body affirm Cornelius' actions!"

Madam Bones had never had much use for Dolores Umbridge, and had no patience at all for her disruptive behavior. "Aurors, you will remove Miss Umbridge from this chamber."

You could tell that the Aurors had been on the receiving end of some of Miss Umbridge's venom over the years by the enthusiasm with which several of them stepped up, totally undeterred by the yelling and fussing she was doing to protest her expulsion from the room. "Please take her to a holding cell in the lower level, and consult with a member of the Ministry's Department of Law. If any laws have been broken by her behavior here today, we will press charges. Otherwise, please be sure that she is not allowed back into this room in the future."

Albus Dumbledore immediately saw the potential problem with such a rule: The Wizengamot had prided itself on its general accessibility to the wizarding populace, and had never excluded members of the public from its open sessions, which this had been. He also thought he had a solution. "Excuse me, Minister. If I may, rather than summarily bar a private citizen from a public Wizengamot session and create a precedent that might be applied in a very inappropriate manner in the future, might I offer a suggestion? As the matters we will be considering for the remainder of this session may have bearing on a pending criminal matter, we should move to private session right now. Only members of the Wizengamot, members, actual or potential, of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Ministry employees whose attendance is required by the Minister may attend a private session."

With a look of gratitude, the Minister smiled at him and replied "Professor Dumbledore, excellent points indeed, and my gratitude to you for pointing that out. The Wizengamot shall now move to private session. Miss Umbridge may not return while we are in private session. If she is released from a holding cell after the Aurors have consulted with the Department of Wizarding Law, she may remain only in those parts of the Ministry offices open to members of the general public."

As the hubbub subsided following Miss Umbridge's removal from the room, Minister Bones looked across at the gallery to see who remained. A few other onlookers had left in Dolores' wake, no doubt because they were private citizens as well, and she saw one person she recognized as a member of the International Confederation of Wizards. And then she noticed Sirius Black.

"Lord Black, may I ask inquire as to your presence here?"

Sirius stood, and cast a look of pure challenge to Lucius Malfoy. "You may, Madam Minister. I remain as a potential member of the International Confederation of Wizards. I have not petitioned for membership as yet, but I am qualified to be a member of that body, and thus choose to remain here today."

Lucius' eyebrows arched upwards at the statement Sirius had just made. No official or public attendance was taken at the Calling, so information came out like this, in dribs and drabs. So, Black had been Called. Despite everything, including over a decade in Azkaban, he'd been able to accept that honor and stand in his rightful place that night, whereas Lucius had experienced frustration and anger unlike anything he'd ever felt in his life. He truly wanted to hex something, anything, at that moment.

Madam Bones was a bit surprised at Black's statement that he was qualified to belong to the Confederation. She'd known him for years before his stint in Azkaban, and always regarded him as an irresponsible hell-raiser, although of course that had nothing to do with magical strength. She stole a quick glance at Albus, who would know the truth of Sirius' statement, if anyone did, and to her surprise, he was beaming with pride in the younger man's direction. Well, well. With a curt nod in his direction, she resumed leading the Wizengamot through reconsideration of the most recently-enacted laws under the Fudge administration. In short order, the Wizengamot rejected both sections of the Wizarding Registration Act, the Wand Certification Doctrine and the Alliance Precedence Act.

Next on the agenda were a series of petitions from the Winter Lands. Lady Brand stood to present these. She had her brother's presence, although of course not anything remotely like his voice. The Winter Lands requested that the Wizengamot acknowledge that their Protectorate continued to be held by Harry Potter, which generated a low level of muttering among some in attendance, but that she be allowed to hold a seat on the Wizengamot in the name of the Winter Lands by virtue of the fact that the holder of the Protectorate is a citizen of Great Britain. Lucius, in particular, was a bit taken aback by the cleverness of the approach, as he realized that while no one wanted to challenge Lady Brand for her seat, she did have a rather tenuous claim to it, if she insisted that she was holding it in the name of the Winter Lands rather than in her own right. If he'd been consulted, he'd have recommended that she hold the seat personally, but she was making a statement, no doubt. However, the chances of this being a troubling precedent were virtually nil – there were not many Protectorates out there to begin with, and the odds of another being transferred away from the Ministry to an individual were even smaller.

Madam Bones spoke first. "We have never accepted a representative on the Wizengamot from a country that was not a Protectorate of Great Britain."

Lucius noticed a small frown appear on Albus' face at that. Had there been some additional information about what Lady Brand intended to present in the briefing materials, he would have had several private conversations with other Ministers to express his thoughts and try to avoid a public discussion like this. For whatever reason, the briefing material only alluded to several matters pertaining to the Winter Lands. He'd meet with Lady Brand later to discuss the more political approach, but for now, this petition needed his support.

"I see no problem with this request. If a Protectorate of Great Britain transfers its status to a citizen of this country that it chooses to recognize as its king, but it still wishes to participate on the Wizengamot, we can accommodate that. The relationship between the citizens of magical Great Britain and citizens of a Protectorate of a citizen of magical Great Britain is such that their mutual interests are all best protected through this arrangement. I move that we agree to this proposal."

Rather quickly after that, Lady Brand's request was granted. She then requested that commissions be set up to revisit several trade treaties with the Winter Lands, validating Lucius' assumption that there was likely to be an immediate benefit to agreeing to allow the Winter Lands to have a representative hold a seat at the Wizengamot. To nods from Lucius and Albus, those were quickly created as well.

Her final request was for the right of transit of Winter Lands warriors over British soil in order to fight for Harry Potter should he request their assistance. The muttering that had largely grown silent erupted anew, louder now, and the word "invasion" was heard from several members. This might have swelled into strong argument against had not Albus immediately spoken up. "Madam Minister, this is completely consistent with our agreement to welcome Lady Brand as holder of a seat in the body on behalf of the Winter Lands. We now regard them as a Protectorate, just once removed from a direct relationship with Great Britain. I believe you are aware that there is already an encampment of Winter Lands warriors on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, at our invitation. We regard them as most welcome guests; they have provided very valuable additional security for those in the castle. I endorse this request. This does not constitute an invasion, but a limited right of access for the good of all our citizens."

Albus' intervention on behalf of this request effectively quelled the muttering. There was some desultory discussion, more posturing just in case something went wrong later, but no serious objection to the practice survived, and this request, too, passed.

The next topic was another one that had been presented in the vaguest of terms in the briefing materials – the rights of vampires and werewolves. This was not nearly as straightforward as its presenter thought. Remus Lupin stood to present a motion that the laws enacted 400 years ago that deprived those afflicted with vampirism and lycanthropy of full citizenship rights be repealed immediately. Lord Aventine looked on with interest; while the younger wizard had not consulted with him on this, he was nonetheless very supportive of the repeal of those old laws. Lord Aventine was not entirely surprised when Lucius stood immediately with a counter proposal, however. The intricacies of wizarding law were almost certainly not as well understood by Remus as they undoubtedly were by Lucius. Lord Aventine remained convinced, from Harry Potter's charge to him, that Lucius would be on their side in this.

"Madam Minister, Mr. Lupin, and members of the Wizengamot, may I suggest that we need to take a slightly different approach? The repeal of the two laws that have just been identified will not actually accomplish what my colleague expects. When laws have been on the books for the length of time that these two have been there, there are numerous other laws that express the same intention, or refer to these laws in setting forth the subject that they cover. What I believe is needed here is a thorough study of wizarding law as it applies to vampires and werewolves, so that all aspects of the law that impact those two groups differently from others in the magical world can be identified and understood. We can then craft repeals and amendments as needed to truly restore vampires and werewolves to the legal status they enjoyed before the passage of the two key laws identified today. To do this correctly and achieve the intent of my colleague, I suspect that we will need to consider the repeal of at least 100 laws that have been passed over the centuries since the original laws passed, and likely several hundred more laws will need some amendment to reflect the change."

"I will gladly chair a Ministry Commission, and invite Lord Aventine and Mr. Lupin to participate, to fully research this matter and develop a comprehensive proposal. To the extent that this work requires skills not available at the Ministry, I will secure the services of those with those required skills, at my own expense."

Lord Aventine had a most bemused expression on his face at this. He'd fully understood what Harry Potter had done in offering Lord Malfoy the chance to assume a seat on the Wizengamot, but seeing the man in action was more than he'd really expected. Malfoy was the consummate politician, and clearly knew more about wizarding law than most, given the favored status most of his business transactions enjoyed under that law.

Albus Dumbledore was also clearly pleased by this development, with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes. To the extent that Remus had his reservations about the sincerity of Lucius' support, he had to take his cue from the much more worldly Aventine and much more experienced Dumbledore. They both looked inordinately pleased by this development, so, pushing his concerns aside, Remus nodded in the direction of Lucius. "I appreciate and value the support of Lord Malfoy in this endeavor. I am sure his considerable expertise will enable us to take the actions to bring about the changes I believe are needed here." He lacked the nerve to make eye contact with Sirius at that point; he was sure his bondmate was looking at him as if he'd gone crazy, and he wasn't confident enough at that point that he hadn't to stare him down.

Remus remained standing, however, and at Minister Bones' questioning look, spoke further. "Madam Minister, I do have one additional issue to present. I am very concerned, both personally and as a member of this body, for the safety and welfare of Harry Potter and Severus Snape should either find it necessary to visit the Ministry of Magic personally for any reason. On the occasion of their last visit, literally dozens of wizards lined up in one of the corridors to throw down the gauntlet before Lord Snape. While of course the standards of our world dictate that Lord Snape was honor-bound to accept those challenges and duel the one who threw down the gauntlet, I find it utterly dishonorable that one Lord be required to duel his way through dozens of challengers. Thankfully, Lord Black agreed to second him, and they are both quite competent duelers, but I was embarrassed that such cowardly behavior was allowed to be displayed within the walls of the Ministry."

"I would add that Harry Potter felt the same. He was clearly furious when he found his bondmate dueling for his life before a long line of others waiting to challenge him. Lord Potter's response to this, a rather amazing display of wandless magic that literally blew all the challengers out of the corridor, resulted in one death and serious injuries to at least eight combatants when they were thrown into the wall at the end of the corridor, to say nothing of the shattered marble tiles. More than the potential for harm to others who challenge Lord Snape, or damage to Ministry premises, is the potential damage to himself that such displays of wandless magic by a young man who is, after all, just 16 years old. I am sure that Lord Malfoy can improve on what I propose here, but in the interest of the safety of Lords Potter and Snape, as well as in the interest of the Ministry to have access to them and their willingness to attend to matters in person here, I propose that all dueling, other than for seats of the Wizengamot during times that there is no Minister, be banned within the Ministry of Magic or its immediate surrounds."

For once, Lord Malfoy could not improve on Remus' legislative proposal, and it passed with no further debate.

X X X X X X X X X X

When the Wizengamot meeting ended, Albus quietly sought an interview with Minister Bones, to brief her on the work at Hogwarts. She led him to her office, and summoned two of her trusted advisors to join them. Albus recognized and nodded to head Auror Maxwell Darmut, and was introduced to a younger wizard, a plump, nervous sort with thinning dark hair, Malcolm Merrin.

"Minister Bones, as you know, there is a team at Hogwarts working on several aspects of the current situation, and we want to keep the Ministry apprised of our actions. As you may have heard, Harry Potter, Severus Snape and Hermione Granger and I have come up with a spell to remove the Dark Mark from the arms of Voldemort's Death Eaters. It's more than just cosmetic – the removal spell completely severs the connection between Voldemort and his Death Eaters, so he cannot summon them, nor access their magic through the link."

Malcolm, who had winced most noticeably when Albus spoke Voldemort's name aloud, spoke up in annoyance. "We have a very serious situation on our hands; are you sure it is worth the time to be dealing with You-Know-Who's minions, wasting efforts on their Dark Marks, when there is so much other work to be done?"

"Harry in particular was concerned that if we left that link in place, Voldemort would simply re-cast his spell. He realized at the Calling that a significant number of the most powerful witches and wizards in the world had taken that Mark, and thus put their power at Voldemort's disposal, so this is a significant issue. Muggles are already asleep, so only the wizards would be sent to sleep, and there would be no stasis component to the spell this time. We would be the ones to die."

Darmut looked with some disdain at his Ministry colleague, apparently reacting to the impertinence in the question he posed. "Do you think You-Know-Who is aware of what you've done?"

"Harry is certain that Voldemort knows his plans have been thwarted, but maybe not all the details. We assume Voldemort has figured out that we've undone the links in the Dark Mark by now, and that he'll be recruiting new members and reestablishing the link to others. I understand that there were many disillusioned Death Eaters when they realized how Voldemort misused them in draining their power and preventing them from taking their places as the Calling, so he might find many former Death Eaters unwilling to accept the Mark a second time. It will take him some time to reestablish a network of others willing to cede their power to him and accept the Dark Mark, now that they understand how that works."

"What do you see as the long-term outcome of your action here, Albus?" Minister Bones inquired.

"We are no longer dealing with an adversary with an established battle plan. By now, Voldemort's original plan would have had virtually all the muggles in the world dead, and a significant number of us with magic also dead or dying. He apparently only intended to awaken a small handful of his followers in time to save their lives. We have completely disrupted that. Harry and his team at Hogwarts will periodically recast their spell every few days or so, in different directions, so even those who take the Dark Mark now will not have it for long."

"Any speculation as to what Voldemort might try next, Professor Dumbledore?" Darmut asked, wondering what he and his corps of Aurors will need to fight now.

"Ah, yes, the crucial question. I think we need to look back at history to see where this is probably likely to lead in the near term future. We can expect the usual savage disregard for persons and property, of course. But I had a most interesting conversation with Augusta Longbottom, who was an Auror herself over 60 years ago, and she and I agree that the precedent to consider here is the rise of Gellert Grindelwald."

Looks of great consternation were exchanged among the Ministry staff at that news. None of them were old enough to have actually experienced that, but everyone knew the general story.

"That was the last time we saw demons summoned, if I recall, before Voldemort's recent foray into that activity. Gellert relied heavily on the use of all sort of Dark Magic, compulsion spells, magical bindings, magical tortures. We saw the ruthless use of kidnapping and murder, of both those with magic and those without, to coerce people into accepting his mandates. He was at the early stages of trying to take over the government, too, when he finally met his end."

A look of great distress on her face, Minister Bones asked "Do you think Cornelius' actions were part of You-Know-Who's plan? Might he have been under the Imperious Curse when he sought to undermine the Ministry?"

"No, I think Cornelius' bout of treachery was his own." Looking at Darmut for confirmation, which he got immediately, Albus continued "Cornelius employed some of the most sophisticated Curse detection methods known to our world, methods that have always proven to be particularly good at detecting any sort of compulsion curse, and I am sure our Aurors and others in that line of work would have detected anything of that sort. Our former Minister's actions were just fortuitous for Voldemort, but not part of his plan."

"Gellert had stealth, which Voldemort obviously has lost. Many of those who were swayed by Gellert's agenda did not understand the full impact of what he really intended, until it was getting almost too late. Voldemort similarly had an agenda with which some agreed, but now he's shown his hand. Everyone understands his ultimate objective, and exactly how he intends to achieve it. Those who align with him now will do so with their eyes wide open. They will be fewer in number, I imagine, but very committed to his cause."

Malcolm had become very quiet. His bravado was ebbing as he began to understand the magnitude of the situation. Albus wondered to himself what role the young man served for Minister Bones – he certainly seemed out of his league at this meeting. Darmut, however, was clearly developing an understanding of what was to come. "So, the next phase of this engagement will be violent and vicious, carried out by people committed to what they are doing and unmindful of the harm they cause."

With a very sad expression, Albus nodded. That did, unfortunately, sum things up.

Minister Bones observed "I seem to recall reading that Grindelwald was quite adept at demon-summoning."

Albus agreed. "And we can also expect attacks of the more usual sort, by his Death Eaters. They will not be able to link their power in larger numbers, but the individuals will be able to use their own considerable power to attack us."

With a smile now, he continued. "That was what Augusta and I discussed. She was very engaged in the fight against Gellert, and very skilled at some of the defensive spells that we are likely to need now that we have a new Dark Wizard taking aim on our world, spells that many no longer know. She's agreed to teach a new course at Hogwarts."

Malcolm looked up sharply. "We've seen no new course descriptions for Hogwarts – you are still expected to follow the standard syllabus for OWLs and NEWTs exams!"

"Mrs. Longbottom's course is not part of the regular syllabus. Only select students will even be invited to participate in her course, those who have shown particular aptitude or interest in this area. We will gladly hold sessions for members of your Auror corps, Maxwell, and others from the Ministry who might benefit from a refresher in this more arcane subject area. We will also make this available to some members of the public, and Harry has expressed interest in inviting some of the stronger witches and wizards from other countries to visit Hogwarts and participate."

Malcolm looked quite upset at that news, and leaned over to Minister Bones. "We cannot possibly allow that, Minister! We cannot allow anything to dilute the support and training that might be needed to defend our country against You-Know-Who. After all, there is every reason to believe that he'll focus his actions here."

"I am concerned, as well, Professor Dumbledore," Maxwell added. "I believe we need to look to ourselves first here, and make sure that we've done all we can for our own people, before sharing this with others."

Albus stole a look at Minister Bones, to gauge her reaction to this. She looked pensive, as if pondering the points made by her advisors. "This is a private course, by invitation only, and we are extending an invitation to the Ministry to send whomever you feel can best benefit our society with this instruction. I know that Mr. Potter will insist on including others, but I did want you to know about this."

Minister Bones did not look at all put out by that; she almost seemed to be pleased that Harry took the stronger position and relieved the Ministry from having to defend the decision he made.

X X X X X X X X X X

Back at Hogwarts, Harry was enjoying what felt like an almost normal Monday.

He and Severus had enjoyed their morning beverages – coffee for Severus and tea for Harry – and shared a kiss before heading off to the Great Hall for breakfast. It had felt so natural, so normal, and it buoyed him.

The students at the Gryffindor table were their usual, noisy selves, with conversations going on all around him, about all manner of everyday topics. There was gossip, and arguments, and worried discussions about the upcoming classes. Hermione was reviewing some notes from prior classes, naturally, and her efforts to get Harry and Ron engaged in any sort of review of the work from just over a week ago now were meeting with no success, as usual. Ron, Dean and Seamus were discussing the resumption of Quidditch once the pitch was repaired, and Neville was still fretting over his grandmother's plans to include him in her class as a teaching assistant.

Harry smiled as he buttered a piece of toast and dug into his cereal. This was what life was supposed to be about for 16-year old students at Hogwarts. He was happily able to put aside the absurdity of his being asked to sort out the craziness at the Ministry, and deal with all those foreign dignitaries, and all the other things that had become part of his life over the past week. Hermione was doing class work now, not desperately trying to develop a spell to solve a problem that had gone unsolved for years before she was born, to remove the Dark Mark. Stealing a glance at the head table, he smiled to see Severus looking with annoyance at Professor McGonagall – how normal was that?

"What's so funny, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Nothing. Just looking around and seeing how normal everything is starting to look again. Normal things to talk about. Hermione frantically reviewing notes before a class. I missed this."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the description that captured her activity, and good naturedly swatted Harry in the arm with the parchment she'd been reading. "Really, I wish you would all just take a few minutes to go over what we did last week. Professor McGonagall might not go over this again, and it will make this class today more difficult."

Harry grinned broadly. Yes, things were getting back to normal, at last. He never knew how long normalcy would last in his life, so he knew he had to enjoy it while he could. He was still smiling as the group stood and started off to Transfigurations class.


	14. Ch 91 Roses

Chapter 91 – Roses

Harry's good humor was not impaired as the day went on, and he was surprised how well things went that first day back after the week of extraordinary events.

In the back of his mind, he'd been concerned about how he'd be able to balance a full school schedule with the translation work that he still needed to finish. He was only about a quarter of the way through Salazar Slytherin's books of Light, and not much more than that through the volumes that Lucius Malfoy had lent them. While Mr. Malfoy had not said anything about wanting them back, Harry felt pressure to get those done quickly lest access be cut off with minimal warning. Harry saw those books, the ones that Voldemort himself had studied, as the ones most likely to contain clues about his thoughts and plans; even though Harry had rather thoroughly scuttled Voldemort's original plans, any insight into the mind of his nemesis could yield an important advantage.

And he'd been trying to make progress with the research notes on vampirism, although the complexity of the potions work was daunting. He was very glad that Severus had offered to work through that with him. His translations of such technical material with minimal technical knowledge himself were not likely to capture the important nuances; it was only after he and Severus discussed the points thoroughly and went carefully over the words in the Parseltongue text that they agreed on the English translation to use. He felt that his input contributed far less than half of the work behind that translation, although he could not just translate words into English and turn the work over to Severus for polishing – there was too much discussion at every point. He'd never really appreciated the subtlety in Parseltongue before this.

He noticed a slight shift in the kind of work some of his teachers were giving some of the students. A new level of sophistication was introduced into a few courses – Professors McGonagall and Flitwick offered some instruction on wandless magic in class, for example. Most students had no real chance of ever achieving that, but Harry was not the only one to express interest. It was clearly going to take work and practice, but it was an exciting deviation from the usual syllabus.

Harry was a bit embarrassed to be singled out with a requirement that his homework essays be shorter than his classmates. Professor McGonagall was particularly specific about the fact that his work on translating certain ancient texts was much more critical than developing the fullest understanding of certain principles of Transfiguration. She sagely deflected jealousy and criticism by reminding everyone that he'd have to be tutored later on the points that they were learning now through their homework.

"Mr. Potter, for the time being, the time you spend on the translations of those texts is the best use of your time. When those are completed, your professors will work with you individually on the principles that you will not be learning as well as your classmates because of reduced homework assignments. I'm sure with some concerted efforts before exam time, we will be able to cover all that you need to learn."

At lunch, Dean Thomas asked Harry about what he was translating, inadvertently giving Harry the opportunity to assure that no one felt he was getting off lightly. "We've got a number of notebooks written in Parseltongue. Some we believe were consulted by Voldemort himself in creating some of the spells he's used, so we want to understand as much as we can about what he knew when he was working, and some of the texts are very ancient notebooks, created at about the same time. And then we've got the notes on vampirism that were made by Silvius Ventus about 400 years ago, that I promised to translate. Those are the toughest – Ventus was a potions master, and all of his theories relate to very complicated potions work. I've been working on those with Severus, because there are so many nuances, and we have to go over everything so carefully to be sure we capture the right meaning in English."

A few of Harry's classmates still flinched when he said Voldemort's name, although Harry had long ago stopped being too accommodating of that silly superstition among people he felt ought to know better. He noted, and smiled to himself, that even fewer of his classmates reacted at all to his use of Professor Snape's first name. The looks of sympathy for someone having to read such technical potions work and then discuss it with Snape, of all people, were sincerely offered by virtually all who heard (or overheard) that story, but it was pretty much accepted now that the man was Harry's bondmate and a certain familiarity was to be expected. Harry noticed the look of abject horror that came from Neville. Harry decided to end this conversation now and deflect the attention to his friend.

"So, Neville, how are things coming along with your grandmother's class?"

"She's been developing a syllabus, with lots of input from 'Mione," he replied, nodding over to Hermione, who was listening with interest. "Gram was planning for two classes, one for general students and one more advanced, by invitation only. The articles for the Prophet will start running this week, and Gram commented that maybe the material for the general class should just be put into the articles. You'll be writing most of those, won't you, 'Mione?"

"We got a stack of letters from the Prophet that supposedly represent questions witches and wizards are asking about how to stay safe and defend against attacks from dark forces." Raising her eyebrows, she added "These presumably are the same witches and wizards who ran for cover and did absolutely nothing when you were attacked in Hogsmeade earlier this year. What use they will make of instructions on how to defend themselves against demons or banshees, when they were totally unable or unwilling to do anything when confronted with armed wizards, is open to conjecture. Mrs. Longbottom's responses to the letters were, shall we say, very unvarnished."

Harry chuckled. Severus had shared his assessment of the old woman's bluntness; even among those very familiar with blunt, unforgiving speech, hers stood out, even years later. "You've edited those responses, I gather?"

"The editors were pleased with the first column we submitted. As Mrs. Longbottom and I discussed the letters and she reviewed my proposed articles, she's suggested that it might be more appropriate to just conduct periodic open forums for members of the public on general defensive approaches, and only run a real class for people with some actual aptitude. As I've been looking over the questions, though, I've added a few other subjects to be covered in the articles, and a few that should go into the advanced course."

Neville nodded, and looked very uncomfortable. "Gram is going to start working with me in the afternoons on how she wants to handle demonstrating spells and things. I knew we'd be working on demon banishing, but she's covering things like repelling inferi, and silencing banshees, and controlling Nundus. I don't know if I can keep all that straight, as I gather you use really different approaches to each of them."

"Who will be invited to participate in the advanced class?" Seamus wanted to know.

Hermione looked at Neville for an answer, who looked at Harry. Harry was silent, so Neville offered what he knew. "I'm not sure. Gram said Aurors will be invited – she had to offer that to calm the Ministry down a bit. She mentioned foreign witches and wizards, but I haven't heard anything detailed; I'm not sure if the Ministry is inviting them, or how that's being handled. And I think some students and faculty here, and maybe some other people that Professor Dumbledore wants to include, will be invited."

"Well, if there's a sign-up sheet, be sure to point it out to me. I'd love to be in that class!" Seamus offered, to nods from Dean and Ron, and others down the table. Hermione seemed pleased with that expression of interest, even if Neville seemed rather mystified that others would actually WANT to do this.

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry's time with Severus that evening was devoted to making progress on the Ventus notes. Harry was sprawled on the couch with Severus seated in his chair by the fire, as they went over each line.

"Harry, repeat that last sentence again, the specific words, as best you can, in English."

For what felt like the tenth time, Harry complied, but with a whine in his voice. They had been working for hours on this one section and Harry was frustrated. He did not see how the words he kept saying were connected, and he did not see in the material anything that worked as an explanation of the connection. Severus lifted his eyebrows in response to the whine, but mentally kept his focus on the words, intent on finding a clue that would unlock this puzzle. He finally zeroed in on one word that might be pivotal to the potion being discussed here, and to a much larger issue of the direction of the work in general.

"Is there anything about the use of that word that differs here from use elsewhere in the notes? You've mentioned that word before, but the context right here seems to be a bit different."

At least having some explanation for this excruciatingly tedious process helped. Maybe there was something unique about the use of that word here as opposed to the other times it had come up. Harry flipped through pages of the text that they'd already translated, and found where it appeared before. He also paged ahead a few pages, to see if the word appeared. Having found several such instances, he started working his way through each, teasing out any nuance in presentation and difference, and discussing them with Severus.

It was nearly the end of their work that evening when Severus finally thought he saw the elusive concept of the passages to which so much time had been devoted.

"Harry, I see the issue here. I believe that some little-known properties of a very rare plant captured Ventus' attention. I'd like to take a break here to work out the material to this point. I see the direction he was heading, and the potion he was theorizing. I'll do some work with this myself in my lab, and give you a break from this for a while."

Harry was glad to put that material aside for a few days, and resume work on the other texts. At least there, the concepts themselves made some sense to him.

For his part, Severus was intrigued. He'd recognized some of the references as he now understood them in this old document. His mother's research notes had some startling parallels to Ventus' work. He needed to consult those notes, which he'd stored away in his private lab years ago. It was possible that she was even working with one of the same very rare plants, although apparently not as aware as she should have been of those little-known properties. It was very possible that her lack of awareness of those properties led to her death.

Harry had fallen asleep long before a tired, but excited, Severus joined him in bed that night.

X X X X X X X X X X

Severus took the first opportunity he had on Tuesday to go down to the greenhouses to speak with Professor Sprout. He found her repotting some mewling Mandrakes, fortunately behind a strong silencing spell. He gestured to get her attention.

The little witch got the Mandrake into the new pot and covered with soil before canceling the silencing spell with a flourish of her wand. She directed Severus over to her desk, where she brushed some soil and plant debris from a chair and gestured for him to take a seat. Taking care that he not sit on something that would soil or stain his robes, he cautiously did so. "What brings you to the greenhouses this morning, Severus?"

"I am starting some research, and believe I will need some rather rare plants."

"Of course. Always happy to help. What do you need?"

He pulled a small piece of parchment from his robes. "I've found references to these plants – I have not been able to determine if these are different names for the same plant, or different plants altogether. One is carnifex rosa, and the other is rosa avaeritas."

Pomona studied the paper for a few moments, scratching her chin with a dirt-encrusted finger. "Hmmm. Never heard of these, but I'm not all that familiar with roses. Their names in particular get altered over the years." She spotted Neville Longbottom working in the greenhouse outside her office, and called to him, waving him in to join her.

Neville was always happy to talk to Professor Sprout, although he paled as he entered the office and found his least favorite professor sitting there with her. For his part, Severus enjoyed the small gulp he saw Neville make when he noticed him.

"Neville, Professor Snape has asked for our assistance in securing some special plants for some potions work. Any thoughts?" She passed the slip of paper along to her student, who read over the plant names in thoughtful silence.

"These aren't the names of any roses we've cataloged, but rose names do tend to change over time. I'll check the older texts for references to these names, and see if I can find out what they are called today, and where we might be able to secure some plants for you, sir." Neville hoped that he was able to contain the look of relief that passed over his features until after he'd turned his back to leave Professor Sprout's office.

Neville was fast becoming the busiest student at Hogwarts, nudging both Harry and Hermione from that status. His grandmother kept him hopping. She wanted him to work with her for at least two hours each day, and to keep his commitments to Professor Sprout in the greenhouses in the afternoon, he was forced to give up his evenings to work with his Gram. She brooked no nonsense, but to Neville's amazement, he was actually learning some spells, and to his even greater amazement, he was getting pretty good at some of them. The first class conducted by Mrs. Longbottom would be a general open forum, and it was being scheduled for the next Saturday, and the advanced classes would begin the week after that. Mrs. Longbottom and Hermione were refining the syllabus' for each while she and her grandson were preparing demonstrations and explanations. It was in the process of breaking things down into smaller pieces that Neville was learning the most; he could never keep track of all the small components of big spells when they were taught as big spells, and he produced predictably poor result, but when each element was explained individually, he was surprisingly competent.

His work in the greenhouses was far from routine. The Winter Land warriors were preparing to plant their farms for the first time in years, now that they were no longer overrun by Dementors, and they were constantly soliciting his advice as to techniques and appropriate plants. He'd already traveled there by port key twice to assist someone with a problem. He'd gotten the schedule for the Squib Squad organized and turned that over to Professor Sprout, and was now tending to some of the more temperamental and unusual plants. This assignment from Professor Snape fit right into his new role. Neville quickly found the references to these roses in a very old book that Professor Sprout kept in her private library. He learned what he could of their traits and appearance, noting with some concern that these were far from hothouse blooms. They were fragrant, but highly poisonous and potentially dangerous, with large, thick and aggressive thorns. He found some sketches and descriptions of the blooms and the plants, which he copied carefully, and then began the real detective work, finding out what those plants were called today, and where he might find them.

Under normal circumstances, Neville was not an inspired student, but in the area of magic that he loved, herbology, he was more than proficient. He hurried through his chores with the plants that he tended so he could get back to Professor Sprout's private library before dinner, and was fairly confident, by the time he headed off to dinner, that he knew the names of the plants that Professor Snape needed. A bit more research, and he expected to have some potential sources lined up by the next morning.

Dinner at the Gryffindor table on Tuesday evening was more energetic than usual. Word had come out during the afternoon that a small group of sixth and seventh year Hogwarts students would be allowed to participate in Mrs. Longbottom's advanced class. There was an application process, including an interview, and even Professor McGonagall was amazed at the excitement and enthusiasm of her Gryffindors at the chance to get into a difficult class being taught by one of the student's grandmothers. Harry looked up from the hubbub around him to see Severus smirking at the group at the table, while obviously speaking with Professor McGonagall about her students.

"We're really going to learn about Nundus, and how to control them? And we'll really learn about spells to banish demons?" Ron wanted to know. Seamus and Dean wanted to confirm that there would be advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts work. Ginny Weasley had heard that there might be some work with dragons, and hoped that her brother Charlie might be a part of the group instructing the class.

Neville was mostly nodding, while shoveling food into his mouth. The information that had been shared with students was as complete as was available right now, and he had nothing to add. Hermione was the one working most closely with his Gram on the coursework, not him.

Hermione had an exciting day of her own, but realized this was not the crowd to share her enthusiasm. She'd found more ancient spells, and had spent some time that afternoon reviewing her notes and discussing the relevancy of some of those old approaches with Mrs. Longbottom. The older woman was impressed with Hermione's research and insights, and agreed that the material should be added to the advanced course.

After dinner, Harry went back to the dungeons. At the door, he exchanged his usual pleasantries with the portrait of Salazar Slytherin and his snake, who both relished the chance to communicate with a living wizard in Parseltongue. For his part, Harry appreciated the opportunity to practice speaking the arcane language, especially with someone who wasn't a snake. Once he gained admittance, Harry waved his wand to set a small fire in the grate to take away the evening chill, and settled himself on the couch. He curled up there in his usual place to work on one of the Parseltongue texts that he'd been able to remove from his offices and translate in the comfort of his rooms.

Severus and Professor Dumbledore arrived a short while later, and Albus was quick to wave Harry back to his seat when he started to stand to greet him. He sat in one of the chairs near the fire, and Severus took the chair opposite him. Severus did not look happy, so Harry was immediately wary.

"Ah, my boy, I'm sorry to disturb your evening. I heard from Remus Lupin this afternoon, after we provided information to the Ministry about Mrs. Longbottom's advanced defensive magic course." Harry could tell that the Headmaster was irritated, but he did not seem unduly upset, to Harry's relief. "We had discussed early in the current situation that the international magical community was very worried about defending against the kind of things we anticipate Voldemort doing as he wages war against us. Many wanted you to agree to reside in their countries, I'm sure you recall."

Harry nodded. He'd not fully appreciated that they were serious about it at the time, but he'd come to realize how little the average wizard knew of defensive magic. Many in the world truly believed that they couldn't do this themselves. "Weren't you going to invite representatives from those countries to join Mrs. Longbottom's class, so there would be people in those other countries who knew the basics and could teach others?" he asked.

Severus rolled his eyes as the Headmaster nodded. "I contacted Minister Bones' office today to advise them of our plans for the class to begin next week. They wasted no time in confirming that there will be several dozen members of the Auror corps attending, and a few others from the Ministry. You, of course, know that I'm inviting some people on my own initiative, mostly people you'll know from the Order, and I image that you've heard we invited sixth and seventh year students interested in participating to apply. I specifically asked the Ministry to extend invitations to their counterparts at the foreign ministries that had asked to be included in this program. I'd broached this with Minister Bones yesterday, and she seemed amenable, but her advisors opposed it. I asked Remus to approach her again today, with news of the schedule, to see if she might be persuaded, but he firecalled this evening to tell me that the Ministry refuses to do this. Apparently Minister Bones ultimately accepted her advisors input. National security, or somesuch."

Harry was now leaning forward, with his elbows on his knees and a frown on his face. "We can't allow them to do that. Those others are scared because they've never faced anything like this. If we have someone with the background and skills, who's faced something like this before, and she's willing to step up and share her knowledge, the Ministry has no right to block us from doing this!"

Albus smiled with pride at Harry. "I expected that's how you'd feel, Harry, and I told Amelia yesterday that we regarded this as a private class. I was hoping that she'd see beyond the narrow vision of those she's chosen to advise her, but alas, that was not to be. I would like you to extend the invitations, Harry. I do have a role in the Wizengamot, after all, so my outright defiance of a Ministry decision might not go over well in some circles. You, in your unique capacity, are in a better position to do this."

Harry's eyes sought out Severus to see his reaction, but Severus was looking steadily at him, giving nothing away. "I'd be glad to extend invitations. I'll need your guidance, of course, I don't know the protocol or the people."

Albus was already getting to his feet. "Not to worry, dear boy! I'll get all the paperwork completed tonight, and if you would stop by my office tomorrow before classes, we can get everything signed and dispatched."

"Will they make trouble for us for doing this, Albus?" Severus asked with concern.

"No, I suspect that Minister Bones would have agreed, as might Auror Darmot, but she's got other advisors, at least one of whom I believe just lacks her breadth of vision and understanding. She appreciates that this is what must be done, and while she's choosing not to extend invitations from the Ministry, I don't expect trouble from them about it. I hope she realizes the limitations of those with whom she surrounds herself soon, and considers others who might more capably advise her, but that's for another day."

After Albus had departed through the floo back to his quarters, Severus took a seat on the couch, rather than in his usual chair, and Harry scooted over to him.

"How's your work on that potion from Ventus' notes coming along?"

"I made some progress. There were some references to flowers in there that I did not recognize, although part of the approach you translated reminded me of some notes my mother left, regarding her work. I found those old notes, and verified my recollection."

Harry's eyebrows went up at that. Severus had never shared any details of that work with him (and he would not have understood it if he had), but it clearly had not ended well, if the woman died in childbirth as a consequence.

"Mother used some magical roses in her potions, and some very unusual techniques in brewing that seem to be standard when working with magical roses. I noticed a reference to a similar technique in Ventus' notes. I asked Pomona Sprout for assistance in identifying the flowers, as I suspect the names used in his notes are not the names by which those roses are known today, and she's asked your friend, Mr. Longbottom, to research this for me."

Harry remembered some of their conversations about Neville, and Severus' rather firm belief that the young man had little to offer the wizarding world. He felt that a little enthusiasm for his friend's abilities was in order. "Neville's brilliant at Herbology, the exact opposite of how he does in Potions. He knows his plants. I'm sure he'll find them, and know how to tend them for you. Really, he's good with plants."

Severus did not look entirely persuaded by that praise, given his track record with Longbottom. He took a deep breath, and handed Harry his notebook while taking a pile of essays to grade from the side table for himself.

X X X X X X X X X X

Wednesday morning, Neville had some free time and made quick work of identifying Professor Snape's roses. He discussed his findings with Professor Sprout, who warmly praised his skills at unraveling the mystery so quickly. Knowing the name of the flowers was not exactly the same as knowing where he might get plants, however, and these were not plants likely to be readily available. They were very magical, and highly toxic. Neville researched the offerings from the major magical plant nurseries, and no reputable firm had these on offer. He had some contacts associated with less reputable establishments, who he thought might be willing to get him access to material like this, but they might not – these were nasty plants. He was not even sure that Professor Sprout would be able to get a supplier to make them available.

He finally concluded that he had no choice – he needed to tell Professor Snape what he'd found, and possibly he'd know of the kind of places one could procure these things.

Neville found out at lunch from Harry when Professor Snape had office hours and was there waiting in the hall when the professor opened his office door. He managed not to flinch when invited into the office, but was still quaking in his shoes when he sat down with the professor to discuss his request.

"Professor, the plants you identified haven't gone by those names for several hundred years, but I believe that they are still grown today, and it's unlikely that they've been hybridized or altered over the years. The first, carnifex rosa, is called rosa caedes now. I'm quite sure that rosa avaeritas is now known as floris sempiternitas. I went through the catalogs we have for all the reputable nurseries, and none of these plants is listed, under any name. Given their highly dangerous properties, that doesn't surprise me. But I don't have contacts in any other kind of establishment, so I was hoping that you might have some suggestions as to alternative sources."

Severus looked at Neville with shock. He'd cut through centuries of obscure references, likely made more obscure by jealous rosarians intent on making it difficult for others to follow in their footsteps, and was here in remarkably short time with answers. Severus had really not expected this. And even more shocking – Severus had an immediate source for floris sempiternitas. He recognized immediately the name of one of the flowers in the rose maze at Briarwood Hall.

"Thank you, Mr. Longbottom. I appreciate the speed with which you addressed my request. I met a young man here the other day, Eustace Landon, whose family is in the business of sourcing rare potions ingredients. I think he might still be in the castle, or I can owl him, and he might be able to help me secure the rosa caedes. As for the floris sempiternitas, I believe some grows on property that my family owns."

It was now Neville's chance to look shocked. "I'll speak to Professor Sprout about the best way to move a plant like that. I'm sure she'll have some ideas on how best to do that. Will you be transporting it, or would you like my assistance?"

"Please speak to Professor Sprout about any concerns in transplanting it. If you are free before dinner, you and I could take a portkey there and back. Let me know."

It turned out that Professor Sprout had all sorts of concerns about transporting a floris sempiternitas. "They are among the most vicious roses in the world, Neville. The thorns are huge, and aggressive. If you don't handle them exactly right, they can literally tear the flesh from your bones! If one was being shipped here by a grower, it would be stunned before it was transferred to a pot, packed in a warded crate, and kept in a stunned state until it arrived here, and we would not apply the counterspell until we'd gotten it settled into its new space. One that's never been in a greenhouse might not be susceptible to a stunning spell, or might require a much stronger spell than would ordinarily be used. It would be too dangerous to even approach that plant with a shovel if it isn't properly sedated."

Neville took a deep breath. How did he get involved in these things? "Would you mind discussing this with Professor Snape? If he needs to have the plant right here on the grounds, perhaps you and he could decide how best to move it. Or maybe you could persuade him to leave it where it is, and harvest what he needs as he goes?" With an absentminded nod of her head, Professor Sprout patted Neville's arm. "Of course, my boy. I'll talk to him."

The outcome of that conversation was the two professors heading off with portkeys to Briarwood Hall later that afternoon. Severus had firecalled ahead and spoken with the house elves, who were instructed to have an appropriate pot and crate in which to transport a floris sempiternitas plant waiting at the entrance to the maze. Upon arrival at the street in front of the house, Severus immediately swept around the side of the house to the maze, not sparing a glance at the house, although Pomona was agog at the huge home, and the elegant surroundings. She'd never seen anything like this herself, although from the newspaper articles that had appeared since his marriage to Harry Potter, she'd learned that Severus' family did have quite a bit of money. But not warmth and happiness, it appeared; she noticed several faces appear in the windows with dour expressions, and no effort was made by Severus or those in the house to greet their family member.

Severus located the pot and crate, and levitated them before him as he strode slowly into the maze, reducing his stride so his much shorter companion could keep up.

"Pomona, over here. I believe this one, and that one, and the red one over there, are the floris sempiternitas."

"They are indeed! I never knew that these were available for private gardens, Severus, given how dangerous they are."

"They've been in my family for years. I can't vouch for their provenance, but imagine this maze has been here for several generations. Maybe they were easier to come by years ago."

They selected a modest-sized, very healthy-looking specimen with bright red flowers, and Pomona hit it with a strong stunning spell, and then needed to cast the stunning spell again before it stopped quivering and shaking its thorny stems at them. At that point, Severus flicked his wand and the soil separated from the roots as the plant levitated out of the dirt and into the waiting pot. Pomona used her wand to urge some soil out of the ground and into the pot to accompany the plant on its journey, and they finally directed the whole thing into the crate, which Severus sealed and warded for transport. They retraced their steps out of the maze, which Severus was pleased to note was no longer charmed to trap unwary guests, and activated their port keys back to Hogwarts as soon as they were free of the maze.

Neville was waiting for them in the greenhouses, having cleared a space toward the back that he thought offered excellent light and drainage for the temperamental plant. He was amazed that the whole process had taken the professors less than half an hour, but he learned later that Snape had no interaction at all with his family, and just went about the business of choosing the plant and getting on with moving it here.

"I've cleared a place for the new arrival in the back there, you can see the hole." He went to assist in the planting, but Professor Snape waved him off.

"It's been stunned, and I'm not sure about how it will react when Professor Sprout administers the counterspell. I'll use magic to get it into the hole. Just stay over there."

It was a very lovely plant, all things considered. Neville admired it once its crate was unwarded and opened, and then the plant levitated out of its pot and into the hole. Finally, soil was spread around it, with a nice dose of dragon dung for fertilizer, and then a large watering can arrived to soak the rich soil and settle the plant. Only then did Professor Sprout utter the counterspell, at which time the plant shook its limbs violently for a moment before settling itself more comfortably into its new home. After a few active minutes, it seemed content, and it went quiet.

"It looks happy there, Professors. Any special care for this one?"

"Just be careful when you water it, Neville," Professor Sprout advised, as she led the two wizards out of the greenhouse. "I'll come by tomorrow to discuss what parts of the plant I'll need for my potions and we can determine how best to harvest them," Professor Snape added.

X X X X X X X X X X

The outcome of Harry's activities that day was a bit more dramatic.

As requested, he'd gone to the Headmaster's office right after breakfast to sign a number of letters inviting witches and wizards from all over the world to come to Hogwarts the next week, and stay for a period of two weeks, to participate in Mrs. Longbottom's class. He went through the letters as he signed them, noticing that some were directed to people he'd met at the Calling, like Pharaoh Nicrotis from Egypt, and others seemed to be more official, maybe even other countries' equivalent to Aurors.

Professor Dumbledore confirmed his observation. "Many of the strongest witches and wizards are not part of their governments, Harry. I would say that the young Egyptian Pharaoh is actually quite an anomaly, being both a ruler and the most powerful witch in her country. We have a mix here. We do need magically strong witches and wizards, but we also need those who are able to actually use whatever magical strength they have in defensive ways. This is a good group. I'm sure they will all be able to master the material, and be able to use it themselves should the need arise, and teach others of similar temperament to use it. It's a good start at preparing the world for what I fear is coming."

Harry never expected the explosion that came later that afternoon from the Ministry. Some officious member of Minister Bones' staff had sent a howler – a HOWLER – to Harry protesting his invitations to witches and wizards who were not citizens of Great Britain to participate in the advanced class at Hogwarts. Anyone who'd ever overheard one of Molly Weasley's howlers to one of her errant children knew what a real howler sounded like. This one sounded more like Percy's imitation of his mother's howler, very officious and self-important. In fact, when it arrived (and interrupted the Charms class), the entire class listened and everyone was laughing by the time it ended in an explosion of red paper.

Harry reported the howler to the Headmaster as soon as class ended. When Albus heard of it, he was furious, stepping through the floo immediately to meet with Minister Bones herself about the matter. Harry waited for the professor to return in his own office, getting back to his translations of the Dark notebooks that were kept there. When Albus returned, significantly calmer than when he left, he checked in on Harry and reported that Minister Bones was going to reassign one of her advisors to a position where his incompetence was less visible to those outside the Ministry.

It made for a great story over dinner that night, as did Neville's story about the arrival of a murderous plant from Snape's family home.

Harry and Severus enjoyed a quiet evening in their rooms, after a surprisingly more interesting day than either had expected. As Harry was putting away his notes and Severus was piling up red-inked essays for distribution to the class of dunderheads that produced the awful things, Harry arched his back with his hands over his head, as if to work out tension. He thought out loud that it would be lovely to soak in a great big bathtub. He'd never actually had the experience of a nice, long soak in a steamy, soapy tub, but it did seem like a perfect way to ease the tension from his body. Severus allowed a small smile to play across his lips, and he preceded Harry into the bedroom. It took just a few minutes to transfigure a small cup into a large porcelain tub, and then to cause it to fill with steamy water and fragrant bubbles. He returned to the sitting room to spell out the fire and sconces, and lead Harry by the hand into the bedroom.

"How on earth . . . "

"You're a wizard, too, Mr. Potter. It's called transfiguration. I believe you've studied it?"

"It's brilliant! And perfect! We'll both fit, too. Hurry up, then."

Harry was peeling his clothes off as he spoke, and hopped into the water, waiting for Severus, who took the time to fold things over the chair rather than leave them on the floor, to join him. Severus maneuvered Harry to sit between his legs, leaning back on his chest, as the older man leant against the tub. Harry practically melted when Severus began to massage his shoulders and neck, and a bit later, Severus had to levitate his sleeping, and now water-wrinkled bondmate, out of the water and into the bed. While Severus had a few memories of particularly exciting encounters in large bath tubs, those sort of experiences were still in Harry's future. The young man had simply wanted to experience a relaxing soak in a large tub. How sad it was that he'd reached his teenage years without having had that chance, but at least Severus assured he'd had that opportunity now. A little bit of frustration on his part was not such a big price to pay.


	15. Ch 92 Continuing Education

Chapter 92 – Continuing Education

Once all the issues had been identified and all the constituencies heard from, it was decided that Mrs. Longbottom would teach three different programs.

The original plan for an intensive two-week program was still in place, but it would be augmented by a four-week program of evening classes. The two-week program was largely given over to Harry's personal international invitees, as well as a small group of private citizens and Ministry workers who could be spared for the two weeks. Albus Dumbledore wanted to attend, as did Severus Snape, and Sirius Black, as well as Arthur and Molly Weasley, and Kingsley Shackelbolt. In the end, this made the two-week program more private and separate from the more public offerings, which worked out well in light of the Ministry's decision that it could not support Harry's decision to include witches and wizards from other countries in the programs.

Because the Ministry complained that it could not possibly spare its entire Auror corps for two solid weeks, Mrs. Longbottom agreed to teach a separate four-week program of classes in the evenings, so that those with daytime responsibilities could tend to them while still participating in the program by flooing in at night. Most of the Aurors, the Hogwarts students who were accepted into the program, interested Hogwarts faculty and an assortment of private citizens made up the students in that program.

And, of course, as she'd promised, Mrs. Longbottom would also present monthly public sessions for the general public, to augment the articles that she was writing with Hermione Granger in the Daily Prophet.

Wizard space being what it is, and with the Hogwarts house elves being so adept at adjusting the spaces in the castle to meet frequently-changing needs, it was not difficult to arrange the space needed for this massive educational outreach effort. The biggest challenge was replicating the Great Hall, on a smaller scale, to serve as the venue for the educational programs, but the house elves managed it with little problem. A new set of doors appeared next to the centuries-old doors into the Great Hall, leading to a large open room that was outfitted with seats and tables for the students. The wing of bedrooms that had been created two years ago to house the Beaubaton delegates to the Triwizard Tournament was never actually dismantled, so it was just freshened up to house those who were going to be staying at Hogwarts during the programs.

Once all the decisions were made and logistics worked out, arrangements were made in Harry's name for the international guests to arrive by floo to Harry's offices on Sunday, to stay at the castle for two weeks. There was some push-back and complaining, but the rules were made clear to all and strictly enforced. The invitations were personal, just for the witch or wizard to whom they were extended. Invitees could not bring guests of their own, nor could they bring their own security forces, aides or secretaries. If anyone did arrive with an entourage, the others could return home via floo or stay nearby in Hogsmeade, but room could not be made for them at Hogwarts. A few of the invitees (especially the ones who held political positions) seemed to be quite put out by those conditions. However, when it was made clear to them that Harry would not yield on those points, they allowed themselves to be mollified by the reminder that they would have constant access to owl post and two free days over the weekend to address urgent matters that required their presence via floo or port key travel.

Only one really odd request came in. Pharaoh Nitrocris asked if she might be able to stay in one of the Hogwarts dormitories. She explained that she had been schooled in the palace at Thebes, and not allowed to attend a regular school. She'd heard of the big wizarding boarding schools and was very excited for the chance to be at Hogwarts for two weeks. She was hoping she could have the complete experience by being allowed to stay in a Hogwarts dorm. As the Pharaoh was only 17 years old, the youngest of the international invitees by a good margin, that seemed to actually be a good idea, as Professor McGonagall pointed out. Harry was pleased to inform her that she would be able to experience Hogwarts from a dormitory.

X X X X X X X X X X

Severus persisted in his work on the Ventus notes while awaiting the arrival of the needed plants to serve as his ingredients. He'd had to owl Eustace Landon for assistance, as the young man had already left the castle, but had received a reply by return owl that he could expect the delivery of a healthy rosa caedes within a few days. In the absence of his own ability to brew to test the potions about which he was reading, he worked with painstaking detail through the existing material and started to see some areas that Ventus had not explored at all, and a few spots where he suspected he might have missed something or made an error. He'd found some intriguing references in his mother's notes, that he definitely wanted to incorporate into his review of Ventus' work, but he found nothing that seemed relevant in the translated Slytherin notebooks. Harry was preparing a table of contents of the notebooks for him, and had promised to work first on the items that looked most promising for this research.

Even Severus was surprised how much "potions work" he could get done without setting foot in a laboratory or touching a single potions ingredient. Harry certainly appreciated the time that they spent together in the evening, rather than apart while Severus worked in his lab; he was not complaining about this new approach to potions work. Nonetheless, Severus wanted to get into his lab and put these theories to the test. That was really the only way to take a theory from just speculation to possible cure or treatment.

Eustace arrived at Hogwarts on Friday morning, transporting a large, heavily warded crate, and was directed to Severus' office, where he was able to meet the Professor between classes. "Good news, Professor Snape! Our firm has a special relationship with a small farm on the Isle of Wight, one of the few remaining sources of the really rare and powerful roses, and they were able to provide a particularly healthy rosa caedes."

Severus shook the offered hand, and smiled at the pride in the young man's face. "Thank you, Mr. Landon, well done indeed! We will find a place for this down in the Hogwarts greenhouses."

Severus led Eustace and levitated the crate down to the greenhouses to supervise the planting. "One of the students who tends to some of the more exotic plants in our greenhouses will be taking care of this one for me," Severus offered as he escorted his guest down the path.

Neville was ready for the new arrival. He'd done some further research on the two ancient forms of magical roses that were now to reside in the Hogwarts greenhouses, and had learned that they were territorial, in addition to their other less attractive properties as garden plants. If these two plants were placed in the same greenhouse, it was very likely that neither plant, nor any other plant in the greenhouse, would survive; there were even reports of greenhouses themselves being destroyed by a floris sempiternitas that felt its territory had been invaded. He'd already selected and prepared a space in a nearby greenhouse that should be a satisfactory distance from the floris sempiternitas for the new arrival.

"Longbottom, I'd like you to meet Mr. Eustace Landon, who I'd mentioned might be able to assist us in locating a rosa caedes. He has just arrived with the plant. Mr. Landon, Neville Longbottom."

Neville walked around the potting table where he'd been feeding ground meat to a bulbous looking plant with thick, waxy skin, and extended his hand to the visitor. "Mr. Landon, very nice to meet you. And thank you for finding a rosa caedes! I was concerned that we might not be able to locate the plants that Professor Snape needed. I have a place prepared for it in the greenhouse across the way, so it doesn't upset the floris sempiternitas."

Eustace looked surprised. "You have a floris sempiternitas? Here?"

"I can show you as soon as we are able to get this one settled into its new home. I'm sure you don't want to leave it stunned and under wards any longer than necessary."

Severus was quietly amazed at the authority and confidence the usually-bumbling Neville showed in directing the planting of this dangerous rose bush. He worked quickly but carefully, wanting to keep the plant stunned for as short a time as possible. He was careful to orient the plant in the prepared hole, and then direct soil laced with dragon dung gently over the root ball, and finally levitate a watering can with distilled warm water deliver a gentle drizzle to get it all settled. When Landon released the stunning spell, the rosa caedes needed just a few moments of twisting and shaking to get itself comfortable, and it calmed right down. It had taken Professor Sprout more than double that time to get the floris sempiternitas to the same placid state.

"It seems to like its new home. I found some references to this one in an old book in Professor Sprout's library, and learned its basic likes and dislikes. If you have any additional information, Mr. Landon, I'd be happy to add it to the card I've started on this one, should anyone else have to step in to care for it. The card is back in the office."

Neville led the others back to the office and produced the card for the rosa caedes for Eustace to review. Actually, it appeared that Neville had found out a few things about this rose that Eustace had never known. Eustace was still feeling a bit discomforted that a student had been so fully prepared for the arrival of this very exotic plant, knew just how to get it planted, and did a very competent job of it. The last time Eustace had been tasked with planting an aggressive rose bush on his own, one far less frightening than a rosa caedes, he'd nearly been killed by the damn thing. These people couldn't know this, of course, but the whole thing made Eustace feel at a disadvantage and he hated that feeling, even more so because he wanted to make a favorable impression on the renowned Potions Master. He just gave the card back with a curt nod, and said nothing.

"Did you want to take a look at the floris sempiternitas? It's been here for a couple of days already, and seems pretty comfortable here. Let me cast a cleaning spell on us all before we go into that greenhouse, then – this one is very temperamental and I don't think it would be pleased if any of us had the smell of another rose on us when we went near it."

Neville cast his cleaning spell over all three of them. Severus was expecting a very simple spell to remove dirt and plant debris, and stood up a bit straighter when he felt a much more thorough spell waft over him. He cast a questioning look at Neville.

"We need to get rid of even the most minute trace of the fragrance or magical signature of the rose caedes before we go into the greenhouse. If the floris sempiternitas knows that another magical rose is here, it will be impossible to work with. It's been very good these past couple days. I've even been able to water it directly, and do some minor pruning. It would likely attack me if it could smell this other one."

Eustace was clearly amazed to see the plant when they arrived at the back of the greenhouse. He'd heard of these, and had seen a picture or two, but had never seen a live one. As if knowing that its fierce reputation was on the line, it flailed menacingly at the three visitors, even as Neville spoke to it soothingly. After an impressive display of aggression, it finally heeded Neville's admonitions that all was well and there was no cause for it to become alarmed, and settled itself back.

While he was seeing for the first time a side to Neville Longbottom that Harry had insisted did exist, and he was mildly amused by young Landon's posturing, Severus had to get back to his own office to prepare for his next class, and he excused himself after asking Landon to send the bill for the plant to him at his Hogwarts address.

Once the professor was gone, Eustace seemed to feel more comfortable about indulging his curiosity about several things. "Where on earth did you get this floris sempiternitas? I've read about them, and never imagined that I'd get to see one up close like this."

"Professor Snape is doing some research, and came to our Herbology professor for help in locating plants for which he only had 400 year old names. She gave me the assignment, and I worked out what those plants were called today, and then it was a matter of finding them. Professor Snape recognized the name when I told it to him, because it turned out that he had this one growing on his family's property; Harry mentioned that Professor Snape's mother did some research with roses. Professor Snape tought that your firm might be able to help us locate the rosa caedes, as none of the firms we usually work with had anything like this on offer."

"Harry – Harry Potter?"

"Of course. He's been my friend since first year." The brevity of Neville's response and look on his face gave Eustace pause in pursuing more information about Harry though this source, although Neville's stock had risen in his eyes with the information that he and Harry Potter were friends for so long.

"Longbottom – I've heard that a Mrs. Longbottom is going to be teaching some courses here on defensive magic. Is she a relation?"

"My grandmother. She was an Auror years ago. I gather that she and Professor Dumbledore suspect that we'll be seeing some similar tactics from You-Know-Who as they saw from Gellert Grindelwald years ago, and she was really good at defending against some of the things he used. Since we haven't seen anything like this in so many years, she offered to teach the what she knows to the people who will have to defend us all this time out."

"I have to do a great deal of traveling on behalf of the family business, and I'm often in rather desolate places. I'd love to learn more about defensive magic. Is there any chance that I might be able to participate in her classes?"

"It's all by invitation only, except the public sessions. She allowed Hogwarts students to apply to attend, so perhaps she'd be willing to consider including you." Neville decided that he could pursue some curiosity of his own, now that it was just the two of them speaking. "Did you have Professor Snape for Potions when you went to school here? What business is your family in, that you get to travel so much?"

"Oh, I was home-schooled. My family hasn't sent a child to Hogwarts in centuries. I did take Potions, of course, and my teacher told me stories about some of the Potions Masters he'd met. He always spoke about Severus Snape with awe, so I was very excited to meet the man myself. Our family is in the business of supplying potions ingredients, and we source from all over the world."

The two shared stories of the magical plants they'd encountered as they walked back to the castle.

Augusta Longbottom met briefly with Eustace Landon, and had her doubts. Her very basic test, administered to all prospective students in the four-week course (except the Aurors, for whom it was already a requirement of their job) was the ability to cast a Patronus charm. When she invited Eustace to cast his, he could not even produce a vapor, let alone an actual Patronus.

Patting the disappointed young man on the shoulder, she said "There, there, Mr. Landon, nothing to be distressed about. Many wizards can't manage a Patronus; it takes a certain temperament, beyond magical strength. If you are interested in getting involved in things here, you are of course invited to the public sessions I will run, and you might want to get involved in the programs that Professor Sprout is organizing with one of her former students. We're doing an introduction to magic for the squibs who only just learned they have magic. There were more of them than we expected. She's looking for people who can present on all sorts of topics, and I'm sure you have several areas of expertise that will be of interest to her."

Neville was surprised at the gentleness with which his grandmother let Eustace down. He'd already heard that she'd been her usual blunt self to some of his classmates who sought entry to her program but lacked the ability to cast the Petronis charm. He'd been getting far more looks of sympathy than usual from other students lately.

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry had come down to the dungeons after the last class Friday afternoon, and settled himself on the sofa to finish off his homework so he could focus on his translations after dinner. He was working on the Light notebooks, as he preferred to work in his rooms with Severus rather than by himself up in his office in the tower. He knew he needed to make progress on the notebooks from Mr. Malfoy, but he'd promised to keep them in his office, and he got lonely up there. He'd heard that the new rose had arrived, and was in a sour mood at the prospect of evenings spent alone now as Severus sequestered himself in his lab.

When Severus swept in from his office about a half hour after Harry, he acknowledged him glumly. "Neville mentioned that you've got your new rose bush."

Severus was a bit taken aback by Harry's attitude. He was angry at the arrival of a rose bush? How was he supposed to deal with that?

"Yes, Mr. Landon arrived with it this morning and Neville got it settled into one of the greenhouses for me. Is there is problem?" he ventured cautiously.

Harry looked annoyed. "No, of course not. You'll be spending your evenings now working in your lab on your potions. I'll have the sitting room to myself."

Why on earth would Harry be annoyed about having the sitting room to himself? Severus had no idea what was going on here. "Is that a problem? Do you not want the sitting room to yourself? Is there something wrong with the sitting room?"

With a surprisingly dramatic sigh, Harry just mumbled "It gets lonely."

Severus had a hard time with drama, and mumbles, and things left unsaid. This little interaction had large portions of all three, and it clearly had the potential to give him a major headache. However, his developing understanding of how to deal with Gryffindors had taught him that you can't just walk away from a situation like this, because it will only get worse. There will be bigger drama, more mumbles, things said that should have remained unsaid, and probably some shouting, too. Stifling a sigh himself, he took a seat in his chair next to the fire, and prepared to sit it out.

"You get lonely here by yourself? Or do you want to make a change to the sitting room?"

Harry glared at him. "No, I'm just fine."

"Obviously not. Tell me. What's wrong?"

"I was enjoying the evenings we spent working together here, and I know once you get to brewing, I won't be seeing you all night."

This was so simple. And so easy to fix. Why was the young man in such a dither? Ever one who preferred action to discussions like this, Severus stood abruptly and disappeared into his lab, ignoring the angry look on Harry's face as he did so. It took just a few minutes for Severus to summon a house elf to extend one side of the room in which the lab was set up, and transfigure a small table into a solid, well-lit desk and a stool into a comfortable chair. There. They could share the same space while each worked. Goodness knows, it was not like they spent all evening in the sitting room in conversation. More often than not, they each worked in silence, with each other for company. Maybe this arrangement would make Harry happy?

Severus reappeared in the sitting room, and in silence, walked over to where Harry was sitting. He was being pointedly ignored, to his amusement. "Mr. Potter, would you please join me in the lab?" He was still being ignored, so he tried again. "Harry, would you please step into the lab for just a minute?" No response.

"Harry, if you don't answer me right now and come into the lab, I am going to carry you there myself."

He was pretty sure he saw Harry's lips twitch at that, but got no other response. He left it for a count of three, and swiftly bent down and collected Harry into his arms.

"Put me down! You can't do this!" but even as he protested and squirmed, Harry had begun to chuckle at the situation. Severus carried him easily across the sitting room and down the hall into the lab, before standing him up next to the newly-transfigured desk.

"If being on your own in the sitting room is a problem, we can set you up to do something constructive right here, where I can keep an eye on you."

For his part, Harry was actually very pleased with having a part of Severus' lab for his own, being able to spend the evening hours with Severus rather than on his own. As much as he did not want to admit that, he could not keep the grin from his face. He surveyed the new arrangements in the lab, and looked a bit shyly at Severus. "You're sure you don't mind?"

With a bit of a smirk, Severus grunted. "As long as you don't interfere with my brewing, we'll get along fine."

Harry went to get his books and some parchment and ink to set up his desk, while Severus readied his workstation for brewing after dinner.

By the time Harry had assembled his supplies and Severus had gotten his cauldron ready, it was dinner time. As Harry stood to leave, Severus blocked his way.

"I believe I said that we'd have dinner together periodically, just a week ago, I recall."

Harry blushed at the memory.

"I have had some food delivered to the kitchen for a stir-fry. I think you'll enjoy the preparation, and the cooking is very straightforward and quick. Would you like to have dinner here, rather than go to the Great Hall?"

Severus did not have to ask Harry twice. He was even rewarded for his thoughtfulness with a huge grin, and an enthusiastic hug as the two walked to the kitchen.

"And can we take a walk in the moonlight tonight, too?"

Severus quirked his eyebrow at that. "I suppose so. Maybe after we eat and get some of our work done this evening." Another big grin was followed by a hug, and then a kiss, that delayed dinner preparation by half an hour.

X X X X X X X X X X

One outcome of the time that Harry and Severus finally spent in their joint office/lab on Friday evening was concern about the potential impact of steam and vapors from brewing on delicate older volumes, like the Slytherin notebooks or the Ventus notes. The parchment was in good enough condition, but the volumes and notes were priceless. If there was any sort of accident or explosion, those in the office could be lost. While a good shield charm might keep them safe, a really bad accident might trump the power of the shield.

As they walked to the Great Hall for breakfast on Saturday morning, Harry was still thinking over ways that he could enjoy the use of the office space Severus had carved out for him in his lab, while making progress in translating all the ancient Parseltongue documents that had suddenly invaded his life. He wanted to get that done, but was not interested in spending all his time up in his office, or in the dungeon sitting room or library by himself. Then it came to him.

"I wonder where I could find a photocopier. I'll bet that parchment would copy well, don't you think?"

Severus looked at him as if he was speaking a foreign language. "What are you talking about? What's a photocopier?"

"Oh, yeah, a muggle thing. You might not know about that. It's a machine that makes copies of things like documents or pictures. You put your document on a glass plate in the machine, and it makes exact copies of that document on paper from the machine. It would be perfect – I could have exact images of all the notes and notebooks on regular paper, and do my translating work from the copies. We could leave all the valuable old parchments up in the warded cabinets in the tower, so they'd be safe, and I can keep a spare copy someplace, and have a working copy."

"You want to make two complete copies of all those notebooks and notes that we have? Isn't that rather a lot to copy?"

"All you do is put the original down and press a button. You can set the machine to make a dozen copies, if you want."

Severus looked amazed. In the wizarding world, certain documents could be created to be replicated magically, but if a document was not created for that purpose, you needed to charm a quill to create a copy. The problem with the documents in Parseltongue was the fact that there were no charmed quills that could write the language. Muggles did come up with some very interesting stuff, it appeared. "Well, perhaps Miss Granger will have an idea."

And, indeed, she did.

As Harry maneuvered into his usual seat between Hermione and Ron, he was already asking for her thoughts on where such a device might be found. "Hermione, I want to make copies of all the documents we've got in Parseltongue. I need to keep the originals safe, but I'd like to work on them downstairs, maybe even in the lab with Severus."

She pondered that for a second. "I can see that it would be helpful with Ventus' notes, to have them right there as you and Professor Snape are discussing some of the formulas. There's nothing like a good old Xerox machine in the wizarding world, you know. They have those charmed quills, but that's about it."

The pureblood wizards listening in on this conversation had questions about photocopiers and "good old Xerox machines," and Harry and Hermione had to explain pretty much everything that Harry had just explained to Severus.

"After breakfast, let's see if I can firecall my parents at St. Mungos. They have a big photocopier in their office. If there's power, I assume the machine will work. It could handle all those documents. It's too much of a distance to apparate; I've never apparated that far, anyway. Maybe we could get port keys made, or maybe we can floo to the Ministry and get there on foot, or maybe apparate from there."

Albus was very happy to allow Hermione access to his floo to firecall St. Mungos, and once Michael Granger had confirmed that the photocopier was in the dental assistant's office, extra reams of paper were stored in the cabinet with the insurance forms, and that the copier was in working order the day they left the office, they were good to go. "And who will be going, Harry? I'm sure you, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley will go, but you must have someone along for protection, just in case."

Arthur Weasley had been invited by Ron, and was nearly beside himself at the chance to see a muggle dental office, and to actually work with a muggle photocopier. He was perhaps a bit too enthusiastic. Albus was reluctant to leave him in charge of protecting the group, when there was no reason to believe he would not be totally swept up in the excitement of the visit.

Severus was not going to let Harry go to London without him, even with the others, so he was prepared to go. However, everyone felt much safer when Kingsley Shacklebolt offered to join them, as well.

The various notebooks and notes were gathered, and shrunk to fit into the pockets of the members of the group and Albus prepared round-trip port keys from some butterbeer caps for them. "I do think this is the most secure means of travel, and the most private. We don't know all that's going on in that neighborhood, so please, stay in the building, in the Granger's offices, and don't wander. Be safe."

The butterbeer caps were activated, and the group found itself standing in the waiting room of a small, but seemingly prosperous medical office. There were several muggles stretched out and snoring softly on the floor, but otherwise everything looked just fine. Hermione led the group through the office, finding that most of the lights were still burning. By force of habit, she was turning the lights off as they passed unused rooms. She guided them to the assistant's office, and powered up the large photocopier and checked that it had sufficient paper. The others emptied their pockets of the parchments and documents they had transported, resized it all, and left it on a nearby table.

Arthur was enthralled with the copier. Lifting the lid at the top, he marveled the mechanics in the lid that moved paper through, and at the glass plate, and at the drawer that held an enormous stack of paper. He was mesmerized as the various lights blinked on and off as the machine warmed up and prepared to announce itself "Ready." Hermione began the process of placing each sheet on the glass, closing the cover, and having the machine make a copy; to her amusement, Arthur nearly hyperventilated watching the completely mundane process.

The others were wandering about the office, Kingsley and Ron fascinated with the small switches on the wall that made the lights go on and off. Harry and Severus checked on the several sleeping muggles who'd been inside the office, some of whom were still sitting in the chairs in which they'd slumped over. They levitated everyone to carpeted floors and settled them there; it might not have made a difference to the muggles, but it did look more comfortable.

Hermione had stepped aside to allow Arthur the chance to use the copier, and went to the window to look out on the street in front of the building. Everything looked fine, but everything was wrong. It made her sad, uncomfortable and even a bit frightened to look out on such a changed scene. Normally on a Saturday morning, the street was bustling; there would be a steady stream of cars, and lots of people out and about on foot from the nearby neighborhoods. Now, there was no one out there. No cars, no pedestrians, no signs of life. It was peaceful I none way, but eerie and disturbing in another. She really missed the normal world, the one that likely was now gone forever.

Hermione's dreary interior monologue was interrupted by a shriek came from one of the interior offices. She followed the sound to one of the rooms where a large dental chair was located, and found the other four men staring in horror at the dental tools and a large syringe that had been placed on the table, ready for the next patient. With a roll of her eyes, she explained the uses to which the various items were put in providing care for muggle teeth. Ron looked nauseous, especially when she lifted the syringe and showed how it was used to inject novocaine into gums. Severus and Kingsley did not look too comfortable, either. Harry had never been to a dentist, a combination of the neglect of his relatives and his own good fortune to have healthy teeth, but he'd heard about them and knew more than the others about what went on, so he just watched with polite interest. Arthur took the tools and syringe in stride, but was really interested in the drill apparatus that hung above the chair. He startled all of them when he found the button that activated the drill, which emitted a loud, grating whine. Hermione had to laugh when poor Ron had to sit down when she explained the process for using that drill on teeth to fix cavities.

She herded the group back to the safer confines of the assistant's office, where everyone had a go at making some copies. Harry took the complete set of copies that they'd made and placed it into the feeder on the lid and set the dial to make two more copies, just in case. Arthur was even more amazed with muggle cleverness when he saw that the stacked pages in a certain spot on the lid automatically fed down into the machine to be copied, and then two complete sets assembled themselves in a bin on the side.

"Hermione, do you think I might be able to get one of these copiers?"

"There are smaller versions, you know. I'm sure, when things get back to normal, I can have my parents get one for you. It needs electricity, so you might need to rig something to make it work, but I'm sure we can get you one to work with."

Arthur was still smiling like a small child on Christmas morning when the group gathered all the originals and copies, shrunk them for transport in their pockets, and activated their port keys back to Hogwarts.

Not two minutes after the group had left the office building, it shook with a massive explosion in the street below, that shattered windows in buildings for blocks in every direction, spewed soil and asphalt and all manner of other debris, and left a black smoky cloud in its wake.


	16. Ch 93 New Arrivals

Chapter 93 – New Arrivals

It was hours before Albus Dumbledore learned of the explosions across London that Saturday morning.

The group that had traveled to London returned to Hogwarts unscathed and completely unaware of the close call they had all just had. Hermione had work to do with Mrs. Longbottom and excused herself to head to the room the older woman had adopted as her office while she was in residence at Hogwarts. Arthur wanted to share his experience with the photocopier with Molly, and Ron agreed to tag along, to check on his mother. Kingsley had work to do in his Ministry annex office, in preparation for the arrival of the foreign witches and wizards the next day.

"I have to return some of the Parseltongue documents to the warded cabinets in the Headmaster's office, Severus. Shall I meet you back in the dungeons later?" Harry asked.

"I'll join you, and see if Albus needs anything from me in anticipation of our guests' arrivals tomorrow." Harry smiled at Severus, glad for the company, and the two walked off companionably. It had been an interesting morning, even reasonably productive, if one accepted that there was value in having the large stack of muggle paper that Harry had shrunk and was carrying in a pocket.

Harry and Severus were welcomed warmly by the Headmaster when they arrived at his office.

"How was London, my boys? Quiet?" the older wizard asked.

"I've only been there a few times myself, sir, but Hermione seemed rather upset at how empty and quiet things were. She knew that area very well, and knew what it would normally be like on a Saturday morning. I saw her looking out the window at the street a couple of times, and she looked, I don't know, upset? Sad? Something was clearly wrong, in her eyes," Harry volunteered.

"We found a number of muggles in the Granger's offices, Albus. Harry and I moved them to lie on carpeted areas of the office; some were still slumped in chairs, or draped over some of the specialized furniture in the offices. I suspect that the Ministry focused on muggles out on the streets or in areas of public assembly, but we should be sure the Ministry is aware that there are many muggles in places they haven't and aren't likely to find."

"Ah, good point, Severus. I will mention this to Minister Bones when next we speak. I agree, there is not much we are going to be able to do to gather muggles from places like their homes and offices, but the Ministry can at least be aware of what's gone on. Were you able to make the copies you needed, Harry?"

Harry removed the stack of papers from his pocket and with a tap of his wand, unshrunk them. Albus took the pile from him and paged through, marveling at the exact replication of the strange words on the flimsy paper. Severus joined him as they inspected this product of muggle technology. "It was rather remarkable, Albus. Miss Granger just put the parchment in the machine, pushed a button, and seconds later, a copy of the parchment appeared. Most interesting."

Harry listened in as he returned the precious parchments to small cabinet, and smiled as the two older men continued to remark over technology that was so commonplace to any muggle.

"Headmaster, what is the protocol for the guests arriving tomorrow?" Harry asked, suddenly looking a bit ill at ease and nervous.

"They've all been asked to floo to your office, Harry. That allows us to maintain sufficient distance from the Ministry. With just one exception, you and Severus will be the ones to greet them as soon as they step through the fireplace. You can welcome them, introduce them to Severus as your bondmate. I'd recommend that you use the title of Lord rather than Professor, by the way. You can then introduce them to me, and please use my title as Headmaster, rather than any other title from the wizarding world. If you have something to say to someone and want to speak to them, that's fine, but there will be no pressure on you; you can just move them along to Severus or me." Harry seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at that news. "We'll have house elves standing by to escort each new arrival to his or her room, and get them settled. Most of them will be arriving just a bit before dinner, so I'll have the head table expanded to accommodate them in the Great Hall."

"And how will you be handling the exception, Albus? I assume that is Pharaoh Nitrocris?"

"Ah, yes, the young Pharaoh. We are going to offer her the choice of being sorted into a House here at Hogwarts and spending her time in the House to which she is sorted, or the chance to divide her time among all our Houses, spending a few days in each."

Albus smiled broadly when Harry nodded his agreement with the proposal. "That seems fair. I have to imagine it would be very interesting to see Hogwarts from the perspectives of the different Houses."

That comment earned Harry a very thoughtful look from Severus. Once again, the Gryffindor had surprised him. While Severus could not contemplate being in Hogwarts in any House except Slytherin, he realized that someone not so steeped in the values of the different Houses might find the experience very interesting. He was surprised that Harry felt that way, and nodded his approval at the young man.

"Harry, now that we've got all this paper for you, it's probably a good idea to get started on the translations. Albus, I will see you at lunch," Severus remarked, and he took the ream of paper from Albus to carry for Harry as they walked down to the dungeons.

It was not until late morning that an urgent owl arrived from the Ministry with news of the morning events in muggle London. Several Ministry teams working in public spaces had been attacked, and four Underground stations had been blown up. When teams of Aurors arrived to assess the damage and determine the cause, they found that the events were all caused by magic, although with just one exception, each incident was the work of the magic of only one wizard and not a joined power. It appeared that one of the larger explosions, that had taken down nearly an entire Underground line as it blew out the station at one end, had been the product of tandem casting, by no more than two wizards. By the time all the information was assembled and passed along to Albus, it was clear. Death Eaters were still out there, coming back and finding one another.

Albus activated the floo to have a conversation with Minister Bones about the distressing events of the day. He decided against mentioning the excursion he'd authorized that morning to muggle London; the last thing he wanted for Harry was Ministry restriction on his travel.

"Albus, we've discussed before my worry about security and safety caused by the welcoming foreign witches and wizards to Hogwarts tomorrow. These events just highlight how precarious everything is right now. Are you sure it is advisable to add the element of visitors from foreign countries at this time?"

"Amelia, they are arriving at Hogwarts on Harry's invitation, and not the Ministry's. I've spoken with Harry about the program and the risks to us and the guests at this time. He, Augusta Longbottom and I agreed that we need to do this, and we need to do it now. Augusta's program is a way to help others keep those in their countries safe from these very attacks. I will certainly brief Harry, Severus and Augusta on the events in London today, and would appreciate your letting me know if the Ministry learns of any similar incidents on other countries, but as you know, this is Harry's call."

The Minister recognized a losing cause when she saw one. "I know we cannot insist that you cancel the program, although I certainly urge reconsideration of the decision to hold it right now. Please, Albus, be careful."

Albus nodded at his old friend, and thanked her for her concern, as he ended their discussion.

Albus reflected that Severus had been adamant that many of the Death Eaters who had been at Lucius Malfoy's Manor after Voldemort drained their magic were horrified by what had been done to them, and very unlikely to be willing to accept the Dark Mark a second time. Of course, there were others out there, like Bellatrix Lestrange, who were so invested in Voldemort's vision that they'd sign up again in a heartbeat. It appeared that, at least for now, the Death Eaters who remained loyal to Voldemort would need time to coalesce into a group organized enough to do more than individual acts of violence at the same time.

The Ministry had sent out teams to repair the damage right away. Madam Bones shared that more than one Ministry worker commented on how easy it was to deal with things like this in the muggle world now that there was no need to hide their magic. Broad daylight? Middle of the city? No problem. Clean-up and reconstruction, using magic right out in the open, was fast and surprisingly simple. Most of the damage was quickly repaired, and the few individuals who had been harmed in the attacks were healed at St. Mungos.

Minister Bones had reported that the Ministry had already stepped up its security measures, sending at least one Auror out with any group of Ministry teams working to repair, restore or maintain the muggle world. She recalled a long and loud debate about whether it was necessary to set protective wards around the buildings where the muggles who had fallen asleep out of doors had been moved. Eventually, modest wards had been put in place around the schools, churches and shopping malls where many of the sleeping muggles had been moved, and the Ministry was now making arrangements to strengthen as many of those as possible against future attacks.

Unfortunately, the sense of security that some had begun to feel in this new world was shattered and not likely to be repaired any time soon.

After his conversation with the Minister, Albus reluctantly firecalled to the dungeons and asked if he might step through. He was surprised that no one was in the sitting room, although his call was answered in a few moments by Severus, arriving from the direction of his lab.

"I have some distressing news, I'm afraid. May I step through to speak to you and Harry?"

Severus nodded, and had called to Harry to join them by the time the Headmaster stepped out of the fireplace into their sitting room.

"I've had an owl from the Ministry just now and have spoken to Minister Bones. There were a series of attacks in muggle London this morning. Clearly the work of Death Eaters, although apparently working individually, in all but one case. I gather from the locations indicated that one of the streets that sustained significant damage is the one on which the Granger's dental office is located. It must have happened just moments after you left, if you were not aware of it."

Severus was surprised how calm Harry was about this development. Harry was predictably distressed that Death Eater activity had begun, but not overly concerned about his proximity to it on Saturday morning.

"Were there many injuries, Headmaster? Anyone killed?"

"No deaths that we know of, Harry. There were several Ministry workers injured, but everyone is fine now. The Ministry got right on the repair of the damage caused, and I gather the repairs are moving along quickly."

Harry took it very much in stride. "Thank you for letting us know, sir. I think we should tell the others; I'll see Hermione and Ron at lunch, and Severus, might you speak to Mr. Weasley? And Kingsley, too?"

Albus was surprised that neither Harry nor Severus mentioned the program or the guests arriving the next morning. "The Minister has again cautioned us about having foreign guests arriving so close in time to events such as these."

"We are offering that program to help others defend against attacks, like these and worse. Why on earth would we want to cancel now? If anything, these attacks highlight why it is so important for everyone to attend and learn" Harry protested. Albus smiled warmly at Harry, nodding his approval. For once, Severus had to agree with Albus. How on earth could the Ministry think that it made any sense to cancel a program on defensive magic because there were attacks going on, against which that magic could be deployed? He'd never understand politicians.

When Harry returned to the lab after lunch to resume work on his translations, he reported that his friends were not distressed at news of their close escape from violence in London that day. News of the attacks was just making its way through the castle, as a few owls had arrived already. Ron was always pleased to have an exciting story to share with his friends, as he craved the attention. The visit had been great even without the violence, but that added a dangerous veneer to the whole experience. Hermione seemed satisfied with the reports about the extent of the damage and its quick repair, although she did mention to Harry that they needed to work out a schedule to start casting the spells to dissolve the Dark Marks on a regular basis, in case Voldemort was starting to use those again.

For his part, Severus' conversations with the adults drew no more reaction. While Molly was concerned that her husband and son had been so close to such danger, Arthur was unlikely to stop talking about his experience with the photocopier any time soon. The attacks were distressing, but they happened after they'd left, so he felt no need to dwell on them. Kingsley had had close calls before in his line of work, and was always happier hearing of violent events that occurred after he'd left a place.

As the day progressed, Albus received a few owls and firecalls from those scheduled to arrive on Sunday, seeking confirmation that the session would still proceed or asking about security at Hogwarts. He repeated the message was that they were still expected the next day and there was no reason to be concerned for their safety.

That evening after dinner, Harry and Severus repaired to the lab, Harry to work on his translations, and Severus to start brewing some of the bases for the potions he wanted to test out from the Ventus notes. Severus had not had the time to go down to the greenhouses to secure some of the buds that had to be added, and while he was not an expert himself on magical roses, he'd gathered enough from his recollection of his mother's work and the precautions that he saw Neville take in dealing with them to know that he had to be very careful about the whole matter of harvesting buds, blooms and leaves from the nasty things. There was a common base for all the potions he expected to work on, so he used this evening to get several large jugs of that prepared for his use later. Harry was watching him with interest, clearly puzzled by the very basic brewing. "Severus, what are you brewing – that can't be a potion, can it?"

Severus smiled at the comment. "I'm impressed, Mr. Potter, that you recognize the process for the simple one it is. I'm just preparing the base that I'll be needing when I find the time to collect the various flower parts called for in the Ventus documents."

"Neville was telling me about the roses at lunch. Are you sure about them? They sound positively vicious."

"I'm trusting to your friend's research that the plants referenced in Ventus' work are now known by the names of the plants we secured. The fact that my mother's own work involved one of the plants he identified causes me to trust his conclusions, as I'd noticed parallels between the two research paths. I saw how careful Longbottom is around the plants, and I'll be asking for his help in harvesting what I need."

Harry seemed pleased by the comments about Neville. "I told you, he really does know his plants, Severus."

Tired of discussing one of his least favorite of Harry's friends, Severus brought the conversation to something he'd been thinking about all afternoon.

"We were moments removed from horrific explosions that rocked the building we were in this morning. Arthur Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt were not overly concerned about that, and you told me that your friends reacted in much the same way. None of you seem to be bothered by that at all. Is this a Gryffindor trait, Harry? "

Harry smiled at Severus. He was so glad that they'd gotten past most of the snark and bickering about the relative merits of Gryffindors versus Slytherins; when had that happened? "Why waste time and energy worrying about what did not happen, Severus? We were safe."

Severus wiped off the table top on which he'd just decanted the potion base, and wiped his hands one final time before vanishing the cloth that was now soaked, all the while keeping his eyes on Harry, who was silently watching him back. "It might be a while, once the program starts, until we have another quiet evening in our rooms, Harry. Can I suggest a relaxing bath?"

He did not have to ask twice. Harry set aside his papers and bounded into Severus, who had opened his arms to receive the young man in a hug. Working their magic together, Harry and Severus had a large tub filled with steaming, bubbling water in place in their bedroom in just moments, and just a few further moments saw them both contentedly immersed in the tub. Severus gently began working on the tension in Harry's shoulders, but learned from his prior experience to not overdo the relaxing massage lest his bondmate fall sound to sleep on him. This time, Harry did not fall asleep in the bath, and the massages were mutual and much more intimate than the last time.

Harry was not ready, perhaps, to experience the full measure of enjoyment that could be had in a bathtub built for two, but he was getting there.

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry was a bundle of nerves as the time for the arrival of his guests drew near on Sunday afternoon.

"What should I wear for this, Severus? I can't imagine my school robes are appropriate, but I'm not too sure what would be right," Harry asked as he scanned his wardrobe.

Severus joined Harry to admire the selection of clothes. He chose a simple but elegant outfit for the young man, something that was not too formal, but nothing that a schoolboy would wear. "You aren't exactly welcoming them to your own home, but I think the right effect would be something appropriate in that situation. Here, these will do very nicely."

Harry smiled in thanks, and took the items from Severus, who had already selected his own clothing, also rejecting his everyday teaching attire for something a bit more elegant, and quite a bit more costly.

Severus was very conscious of, and not entirely comfortable with, his role here. He has some (admittedly long-ago) experience standing as the host receiving guests. It was going to be very different standing behind the man who was the host welcoming his guests. Trying to still the butterflies he felt in his stomach, he told himself to get used to it. His role in Harry's life was going to give him lots of opportunities like this, so he'd best learn to deal with it. It seemed he'd been telling himself that for far too much of his life, and the thought threatened to give him a nasty headache. He focused his attention on the absolutely delectable young man now nearly dressed in a most attractive and close-fitting pair of breeches with an elegantly understated doublet and robe in deep colors that made his green eyes glow. Smiling as he finished the final touches on his own clothing, he conceded to himself that standing with such a creature as his bondmate was something he would gladly get used to, any time.

By the time the two reached the Headmaster's office, Severus' nerves were settled, but Harry's were on edge. Albus greeted them as they joined him and Professor McGonagall. "Welcome, my boys! Right on time! The young Pharaoh should be arriving in a few minutes, which is why I asked Professor McGonagall to join us. Since the young lady will be staying amid the student body here at Hogwarts, I thought our Deputy Headmistress should make her acquaintance, and escort her to meet the Head of the House in which she'll be staying."

Harry had been holding Severus' hand as they strolled up to the tower, but awkwardly released it in the presence of Professor McGonagall. Severus realized the reason for Harry's action, and empathized with him – the prissy old woman could make pretty much anyone feel awkward, for any number of reasons. However, Severus also believed that Harry needed his support at this moment, and he was not going to deny the young man that comfort. As they took their places in Harry's office by the fireplace, Severus put a protective (and possessive) hand on Harry's shoulder as he stood next to and slightly behind him.

Albus beamed at the two of them. The casualness with which Severus reached out to touch Harry, and the easing of the tightness around Harry's eyes as he relaxed into the touch, showed him that they were developing the relationship he believed the Marriage Stone intended for these two special wizards. For all the marital disasters attributed to the Marriage Stone over the ages, he was glad to see that this match had the potential to be one of its great successes.

A few minutes of nervous chatter followed as they awaited the green flames in the grate signaling an arrival through the floo. Finally, the green flames appeared, followed moments later by the stunningly beautiful Pharaoh Nitocris, and moments after that, by a man who bore just enough resemblance to the young woman to be a relative. The young woman composed herself immediately as she stepped out of the fireplace, but Harry caught the look of distress that momentarily crossed her face as she heard the woosh signaling the arrival of the gentleman. He recalled his conversation with her at the Calling, and figured he understood what was happening.

Taking a step forward and extending his hand to the Pharaoh, he welcomed her. "Pharaoh Nitocris, it's wonderful to see you again. I am so glad that you are able to join us for this program." Nitocris accepted the offered hand, and moved closer to kiss Harry on the cheek.

"I am so flattered that you remember me, Harry Potter. I was thrilled to receive your kind invitation, and am most excited to participate. I have been working toward the goals we discussed when we met at the Calling, but thought that taking a break from that work to learn the skills so generously shared by your Mrs. Longbottom would be the best thing for Egypt."

With a smile and a nod, Harry offered "Allow me to introduce my bondmate, Lord Severus Snape." Harry was enormously pleased to see a certain amount of jealously in Severus' face as he watched Harry interact with this very beautiful young woman, and then he was filled with an inner pride, and a jolt of jealousy of his own, when he noticed how Nitocris' eyes widened as she got a closer look at Severus. She extended her hand to Severus, who took it and bowed over it very formally.

"Pharaoh Nitocris, it is my pleasure to meet you. Harry has mentioned you to me, and was most pleased that you would be joining us."

She smiled warmly at the welcome she received, but her smile lost the warmth when she turned to the man who had followed her through the floo. "May I introduce my eldest uncle, Prince Aktenat, who felt it necessary to accompany me today. Uncle, this is Lord Potter, and his bondmate, Lord Snape." Handshakes were exchanged, while Aktenat eyed Harry and Severus with a look of distrust bordering on hostility.

Severus suspected that the uncle came along to make sure the appropriate arrangements were in place for his niece, although there was clearly something more to it than that. Might as well give Albus the opportunity to play his grandfather role, and Minerva the chance to shine as the invincible chaperone.

"Pharaoh Nitocris, Prince Aktenat, permit me to introduce you to the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore, and to our Deputy Headmistress and the Head of Gryffindor House, Minerva McGonagall." More handshakes ensued.

The Headmaster proceeded to regale them with one of his stories, this one of a trip he took as a young man, to Cairo, offering the young woman and her uncle his best grandfatherly smiles.

Minerva caught on to a likely reason for the uncle's appearance, and when Albus' story wore down, addressed herself to Nitocris. "My dear, we are delighted that you wished to experience Hogwarts from among our student population. We will gladly accommodate you in one of our dormitories, where you will room with the seventh year girls in whatever House you stay. We have a magical artifact, the Sorting Hat, which traditionally sorts new arrivals at Hogwarts into the House most suited to their personal strengths and values. We would be delighted to sort you into a House that would then be your home for these next two weeks, or we can arrange for you to spend a few days in each House, to experience Hogwarts from all our different perspectives."

Addressing herself then to the uncle, she added "Prince Aktenat, I can certainly appreciate that her family will want to be assured that a young woman will be well cared for and adequately chaperoned while here at Hogwarts. I assure you that Hogwarts offers a secure environment for any youngster. We have Heads of Houses available to provide guidance and leadership, and Prefects among the students to assure appropriate behavior."

The hostility ebbed a bit from the Prince's face, although he did not look very happy at leaving his niece behind at Hogwarts. Harry decided to intervene at that point. "I regret, Prince Aktenat, that we are not able to accommodate guests of those attending the program here at Hogwarts. If you feel you must remain close by, you might be able to procure lodgings in Hogsmeade, a short distance from the school, but for the two weeks of the program, Pharaoh Nitocris will be very involved in the coursework and not available to meet with you. She will be safe here, I assure you."

The young Pharaoh finally looked at ease when her uncle accepted Harry's assurances as to her safety and with a formal nod to all, threw floo powder into the grate and disappeared into the green flames. Harry looked at her with a question apparent on his face, and she offered a small nod in return. Severus barely restrained his glare at this unspoken communication between his bondmate and the stunning young woman.

"I met Pharaoh Nitocris at the Calling. She told me that, at her father's death, her uncles had stepped in to rule the country in her name, insisting that as a mere girl, she did not have the power to do so. She realized that she alone, and not any of them, was Called, and she told me at the Calling that things were going to be different once she returned to Egypt."

Nitocris nodded at Harry's story and continued it. "I did exactly that, Harry Potter. I have removed most of the men my uncles had appointed from the councils that advise the Pharaoh, and reduced the roles of the Princes in the governing of Egypt, as well. They have been trying to force me into a marriage with one of their sons, to wrest power back from me again. It has been infuriating to them that I have chosen not to follow their advice, and am asserting myself where I had been passive before. Uncle Aktenat had been particularly distressed when I received the invitation from Harry Potter to attend this program, and then when I announced my intention to attend. He always fancied himself to be the most powerful wizard in the family, after my father, and had refused to believe that I had met you, and had been Called. I suspect he was more than a bit upset that you remembered me and mentioned having spoken to me at the Calling. He has all but called me a liar for suggesting that such a thing had occurred."

Sensing that perhaps this young woman did not represent the threat to his relationship with Harry that he'd initially suspected, Severus asked "Will all be well in your absence from Egypt, Pharaoh?"

She nodded at Severus, her long black hair swinging across her shoulders as she did so. "Yes, Lord Snape, I have entrusted the day-to-day matters to a man who served my father well for years, and who I know will keep my uncles under control in my absence. He was the very first of my father's advisors they removed after my father's passing, so even they recognize his power."

Albus gestured for the group to leave Harry's office, and led them across the landing to his own office. "Come along, all. We can get our young Pharaoh settled into Hogwarts as we await the arrival of the others invited to the program."

He directed everyone to seats near the fireplace and a tea service appeared on the low table in front of the seats. Severus sat in a large armchair, and to his surprise but secret pleasure, Harry chose to perch on one of the armrests, with his hand resting on Severus' shoulder. The Pharaoh sat opposite, her posture regal. Severus got a good look at the young woman and had to admit – she was a beauty; everything he'd read about her was true. Aside from the obvious, she had startlingly bright green eyes, lighter even than Harry's.

"What can you tell me about the different Houses here at Hogwarts?" the young woman asked.

Albus responded. "We have four Houses here, emphasizing the traits of bravery, loyalty, cunning and intelligence."

She pondered those values. "Actually, sir, I would imagine that each of those traits or strengths is essential in every powerful wizard or witch." Looking at Harry, she asked, "And which House were you sorted into, Harry Potter?"

Harry smiled. "The Sorting Hat initially wanted to put me into Slytherin House, which is the house that emphasizes cunning, but I asked that it sort me into another House, and it sorted me into Gryffindor House, which values bravery. Professor McGonagall is the Head of my House. But my bondmate is Professor Snape, and he is the Head of Slytherin House."

Nitocris took that information in. "You can ask? Or tell it where you want to go?"

Harry quirked his eyebrow, a gesture that caused Albus to grin, as it looked so very much like a gesture he had always associated with Severus. "Well, I didn't know you weren't supposed to ask, so I did."

Albus chuckled at Harry's answer. "I suspect that since it was Harry Potter doing the asking, the Sorting Hat might have felt compelled to take his request more seriously than most."

"Did you, any of you, have any inkling of Harry Potter's true station in the wizarding world prior to this year?"

Severus frowned slightly. That was a valid, but very impertinent, question. Harry, of course, did not hesitate in offering up an answer in his usual self-effacing style.

"No idea whatsoever. Last year, a friend wanted to help me learn more about defensive magic and spells, and she did some research into the history of spells. She found some old spells, and taught them to me and another friend, although it turned out that only I could actually make them work. We assumed I had a bit more power than they did, and that's why things worked for me. It never occurred to me that being able to use a spell like the King's Voice or the King's Banishment was anything special or noteworthy. I had the chance to use the spells this year, and that seems to be how it got discovered."

Severus shook his head. Harry had shared that story before, but it seemed just as absurd with every telling. He thought back to the events in the Winter Lands; there were clues all over there. Harry moved the huge capstone with the Wingardium Leviosa spell, despite the fact that the spell had a weight limit far exceeded by the capstone. Harry bade the earth to hold the capstone fast. The Black Wyrms had bowed toward Harry as they departed. No one fully understood what was going on, but in retrospect, it certainly should have suggested something. He wasn't going to share this with this group. Later, when he and Harry were alone, he would bring it up.

Professor McGonagall had returned with the Sorting Hat, and Harry was amused at the look of disgust the Pharaoh had for the battered-looking thing. "We place this on your head, my dear, and it will tell us the House in which you belong."

"I'd be fascinated to know what the Hat determines about me, but I must confess, I'd be most excited to experience at least the two Houses with which Harry Potter and Lord Snape are affiliated. Could I be sorted, and still live in other Houses?"

Professor McGonagall looked pensive as she studied the young woman, and then she seemed to make up her mind about something. "It would not be proper for you to reside in a House to which you were not sorted. However, we might ask the Hat to assess you, but not divulge its decision and thus sort you until you are about to leave us. In the meantime, you can stay several nights in the various Houses. Headmaster, do you think the Sorting Hat would be willing to accommodate the Pharaoh in that manner?"

Albus was smiling at his deputy's clever approach to getting around the problem. Of course, if none of them were aware of the House into which Nitocris was sorted, allowing her to reside for a time in each house was not inappropriate at all. "If the Sorting Hat is willing to delay announcing its decision, I think that is a splendid idea."

"As it happens, I think it is a good idea myself," the Hat announced. It was placed on Nitocris' head, where it sat silently for a few moments, before announcing "I'm ready to go back on my shelf."

"That's it?" Nitocris asked.

Professor McGonagall returned the Sorting Hat to its shelf, and gestured to the young Pharaoh to follow her. "Come along, my dear. I think we'll start off by getting you settled into my House, Gryffindor. The friends that Harry mentioned to you are both in my House, and I'm sure they'll give you a wonderful introduction to Hogwarts."

X X X X X X X X X

Just a few moments later, it was time for Harry, Severus and Albus to return to the floo in Harry's office to begin welcoming the arriving foreign witches and wizards to whom he had extended invitations. For the most part, these arrivals moved along quickly. Harry had met a few of the witches and wizards at the Calling, but most were not known to him. He was startled to realize that most of the arrivals knew not only quite a bit about him, but just as much about Severus and Albus. His own notoriety was a sad fact of his life, but Severus seemed to have a profile just as high as his. In a funny way, it delighted Harry to see Severus fussed over as he was by people from all over. The man was remarkable in so many ways, and he had contributed a great deal to wizarding society with his potions work. He richly deserved recognition for all the things he'd done. It was no surprise at all that Albus was very well known to witches and wizards from around the world.

Harry dutifully introduced himself and Severus, and then passed each new arrival along to the Headmaster, who seemed to know everyone and had a personal welcome for all. Harry had noticed a number of house elves standing around the perimeter of the room, and as it became time for a new arrival to be escorted to their room, one would pop into view in front of the group.

Among the very last to arrive was one of several invitees from France, Henri Clovis. Severus bristled as the man stepped through the green flames, his hand tensing involuntarily on Harry's shoulder, causing the young man to become immediately concerned. Severus assumed that Henri was related in some way to Philip Clovis, the man who had thrown down the gauntlet to him at the Ministry, and he was taking no chances. Severus gently drew Harry back, and stepped in front of him.

Albus noticed the interplay between Severus and Harry and became alarmed. He had no idea what could be the problem; this man was a high-ranking member of the French equivalent of England's Auror corps, which nominated him to attend this program, and he was a distant relative of the French King, Louis XXIII. He surreptitiously moved his wand into his right hand, just in case.

"Monsieur Clovis, I believe I have already met a member of your family recently at the Ministry in London." There was not a hint of warmth in that greeting; the words practically had icicles dripping from them.

Albus now recalled that there was a man named Clovis from France who had a reputation as a dueler, and he understood. He'd never asked for the identities of the men who'd challenged Severus to duels at the Ministry, but now assumed that a relative of Clovis' was one of them. Cursing the oversight of not asking Severus to review the list of invitees, Albus stepped forward himself, lest tempers flare.

"Monsieur Clovis, have you met Lord Snape?"

"No, Monsieur Dumbledore. I believe Lord Snape has had the misfortune of meeting my younger brother, Philip. I have never met Lord Snape until today."

Albus did not relax; his wand remained in his hand, but he tried to diffuse the tension. "I apologize for any misunderstanding, Monsieur Clovis." To Severus, speaking more quietly, he added "Monsieur Clovis is a highly-regarded member of the French Auror organization, which asked that he be included in this class. He is not the man who challenged you at the Ministry, Severus." Directing himself back to Henri, he continued "You understand Lord Snape's apprehension, I'm sure. I know that there will be no challenges issued or dueling among our guests. I assume that we have your word, as a member of the House of Bourbon, that you will abide by the wishes of your host?" Not the warmest words of welcome, but it was better to get expectations clear at the outset.

For his part, this was not the first time that Henri had been met with less than open arms by someone who had encountered his younger brother. He was always surprised at the kind of persons with status in the wizarding world that Philip had managed to alienate, especially with Louis' constant scheming and input. He certainly extended some very ill-advised challenges, and it would seem that one such challenge was issued to Lord Snape.

"Of course, Messieurs Snape and Dumbledore. I mean no harm to anyone within the walls of Hogwarts! I give you my word as a gentleman that no one here has anything to fear from me." Turning then to Harry with a very formal bow, he said "Monsieur Potter, it is my privilege."

Harry only nodded, still concerned, given Severus alarm. A helpful house elf popped into view at that moment, and Henri Clovis was escorted out of the room.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked as soon as the guest was gone.

Severus was glaring at the Headmaster as he answered Harry. "Philip Clovis was the first wizard to throw down the gauntlet to me at the Ministry the day you attended the Wizengamot to sort things out there."

"Henri Clovis was proposed by the head of what the French Auror organization. He's one of their top investigators. I knew that a member of his family had a reputation as a dueler, of course, but had no idea that his brother had been one of those who assaulted you at the Ministry!" Harry looked horrified by that statement.

Albus still had his wand in his hand, and waved it in a complicated pattern while softly intoning a spell. Harry looked at Severus with a question on his face. When Albus was done, Severus explained "That was an intention spell. If Clovis takes any action against anyone at Hogwarts, the person at whose behest he is acting will suffer the same fate."

Albus smiled at Severus. "Well, I made it a bit stronger than that. If he or any other of our guests takes any action against anyone here, the fate he intended for his victim here will befall his sponsor, whether or not the one here actually suffers that fate. I truly expect no trouble, but it is better to be safe rather than sorry."

Harry was about to demand a bit more assurance than that when the flame in the grate turned green again, and in short order, Remus Lupin had stepped through, followed by Sirius Black. While Harry was clearly happy to see them both, and gave each a welcoming hug, a pall still hung in the air between Severus and Albus.

"What did we miss?" Sirius asked.

Severus took a breath and replied "Henri Clovis arrived just before you."

Sirius and Remus looked at each other and Sirius asked "Any relation to Philip?"

"Younger brother."

"No! Why on earth would any member of that family have been invited to something like this? He's filth!"

Albus tried to calm all of them. "He's one of the most highly-regarded French Aurors. I can't say that I would not have recommended that Harry invite him if I knew of his family, but no one would have been surprised, at least. I've cast spells to prevent any guest in the castle from doing anything to harm another for the two weeks he is here. He will cause no trouble."

The other three seemed placated by the Headmaster's assurances, but Harry was not so sure. This was definitely one of those things that did not make any sense to him.

Harry realized that he'd seen Remus' name on a list of expected guests for the program, but had not known Sirius would join him. "Sirius, I didn't know that you were coming. What are you doing these days?"

Sirius and Remus exchanged a look, while Albus' twinkle returned with a vengeance. While somewhat curious about what the dog was doing, Severus carefully maintained a look of boredom at the turn the conversation had taken. "Well, Pronglet, after spending some time at the Ministry, seeing what they were up to and what I might be able to do to help sort things out, Remus suggested that I might have greater impact if I took on a more formal role. I know, I know, not what anyone would expect of me, but I came to realize that's the only way I can make the kind of contribution that I want to make."

Taking a deep breath, and looking again Remus for support, he added "I've petitioned to become a Member of the International Confederation of Sorcerers."

Harry's face lit up. He had realized that everyone he met at the Calling could become a member of the International Confederation, although apparently only a few were interested. He was enormously proud of Sirius for doing this, and a large smile creased his face. "That's fantastic, Padfoot!" Thinking back on Remus' explanation of all this at the Weasley's on Christmas Eve, he realized that membership in the Confederation also meant that a wizard could claim a seat on the Wizengamot by Right of Magic. He added "Does this mean that you'll be joining Remus and taking a seat on the Wizengamot?"

Severus looked sharply at Harry. Yet again, the young man surprised him, remembering how that worked and appreciating the magnitude of the step that the most irresponsible of the Marauders was now taking.

Siruis nodded, as Albus beamed at him, and Remus looked on with pride.

X X X X X X X X X X

The presence of the large number of men and women at the Head Table in the Great Hall at dinner, many dressed in very exotic garb, caused quite a stir at dinner. That, however, paled by comparison to the commotion when Ron and Hermione arrived in the company of a dark-haired young woman with startling green eyes and wearing, atop the same kind of sweater that all the young women wore, a large gold Ankh. There could be no doubt that this was the legendarily beautiful Pharaoh of Egypt. Necks craned across all the tables as everyone tried to get a glimpse of her.

Nicotris had settled quickly into the assigned dormitory in Gryffindor tower, and Professor McGonagall then escorted her to the Common Room, where she found Hermione and made the introductions. "Hermione Granger, the person who taught Harry Potter the spells that showed us he was the king! I am so pleased to meet you!" she gushed. Hermione was flustered, not knowing anything about this young woman who clearly knew about her, but the two quickly discovered a number of common interests and conversation flowed easily. Nicotris was a very genuine and thoughtful young woman, and Hermione found she liked her.

There was a moment that Hermione felt very insecure, when Ron arrived in the Common Room and came over to meet the Pharaoh. He was practically drooling as he was introduced, but Nicotris was both charming and sufficiently distant to gently discourage any inappropriate hopes. It was not long before a large group had assembled to meet the newcomer and eventually the Gryffindor contingent arrived at the Great Hall for supper in full voice, attracting attention even before anyone noticed the beautiful new arrival in its midst.

When Harry arrived from the dungeons and went to take his usual seat between Hermione and Ron, Nicotris maneuvered herself between Hermione and Harry. A quick glance to the head table confirmed to Harry that Severus was watching all this like a hawk, and not a particularly happy hawk at that. He remembered all too clearly loud discussions about passes being thrown. While he really never wanted to have a repeat of that particular conversation, Harry did appreciate the small signs of jealously that he found in Severus every once in a while, as he did today.

As Nicotris joined in the chatter going on around him, Harry was happy to note that she made no gestures toward him, nor any effort to touch him to which Severus could object later. Harry had a half-smile on his face as he served himself food, thinking back on the look he'd seen on Severus' face earlier that afternoon when watching Harry greet Nicotris. He tried to look interested in the conversation going on around him, but his mind was replaying that scene over and over.

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry and Severus walked down to the dungeons after Sunday supper; they had been at the meal longer than usual because of all the conversation with the new arrivals. Several of the foreign witches and wizards who were seated at the Head Table sought out Severus to discuss his potions work. There was some interest in his lycanthropy cure and curiosity about his work on Ventus' material regarding vampires, although he suspected that the attention really derived from his status as Harry Potter's bondmate. He indulged the few who seemed to have genuine interest in his potions work, and was somewhat less cordial to the ones he suspected of looking to curry favor because of Harry. Down at the student tables, there had been significant shifting of seats and milling about near the Gryffindor table as everyone wanted a word with the young Pharaoh, including, Severus observed, Draco and several other Slytherins. She seemed as fascinated by the students as they were with her.

Severus suddenly felt Harry's shoulder bump into his arm, rather forcefully. "She's a very nice person, Severus. Everyone seemed to like her, even Hermione and the other girls. Sometimes when the girls are around someone as attractive as Nicotris, they can all get a little testy, but they all got along with her. The fellows were a bit weird at first, but like I said, she's nice. What did you think?"

Severus cast a side-long glance at Harry, not quite sure where the conversation was going. "She seems to be a very accomplished young woman." There – that was vague and noncommittal.

As the two nodded greetings to the portrait of Salazar and his snake and entered their rooms, Harry continued. "Do you know, I don't think she ever met as many young people as she's met today? She is an only child and her parents insisted she be schooled at home, so she was never around others her own age. Just a few cousins, and some servants. She was telling us about that at dinner."

Severus couldn't think of a rejoinder to that, although it did go a long way to explaining the surprising interest she had shown at dinner in some rather unremarkable witches and wizards. This was a brand new world to her. He wondered where all this talk about Nicotris was going. It suddenly dawned on him – Harry had experienced a rather isolated upbringing before he came to Hogwarts. Granted, he was sent to school and thus did meet others his own age, but in many ways, those cursed Dursleys saw to it that he was kept socially isolated. Was this parallel to his own situation bothering him? Or the reason he kept going on about the young woman?

"You were jealous of her, you know."

Apparently, Harry was not focused on the unfortunate parallels between the deficiencies in his own and the Pharaoh's upbringings. However, that was a statement that could not be left unchallenged.

"What nonsense are you spouting now, Harry!"

There was a small smile growing on Harry's face as he once again jostled Severus' arm with his shoulder. "I saw the look on your face when she arrived. When she kissed me in greeting, in particular. You were very annoyed about that, I could tell."

"Perhaps that Oculus Reparium Infinitas potion I gave you for Christmas was not correctly brewed and is beginning to fail you now. You saw no such thing!"

"Oh, I did, and that wasn't the only time while we were all together upstairs! You were really not happy." Harry was grinning now.

Severus did not want to yield on this point, although he did recall rather clearly the sharp pang of annoyance (NOT jealousy!) he'd felt seeing Harry interact with Nicotris. Then he remembered –

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter, but I think I caught an interesting look on your face when you presented me to Pharaoh Nicotris. I don't think you liked the look she gave me as we were introduced." Severus was grinning now, too.

Harry harrumphed at that observation. Truth was, he did indeed feel a wee bit jealous when he saw the admiring look bestowed on his bondmate. He didn't like it at all.

Harry's nudging Severus with his shoulder to make his point had left him right within Severus' arm's reach, and Severus felt this conversation had gone on long enough. He extended his arms around Harry's shoulders and turned the grinning young man to face him. In silence, the two looked at each other, still smiling, as they stood just inches apart.

"Actually, she was very interested to learn that our bonding was suggested by the Marriage Stone. While the Marriage Stone didn't work too well for Cleopatra, I gather it did well by some other members of Egyptian royalty over the centuries. How is it that such a legendary artifact came to be at Hogwarts, in the possession of the school's Headmaster?" That question was originally posed to him by Nicotris, but it was a really good question, so Harry adopted it.

As Severus considered an answer, he took Harry's face in his hands, and leant down to kiss him. After a brief, sweet kiss, he broke away. "I have no idea. Either how it got to Hogwarts, or into Albus' hands." Another kiss. "Given the history of the Stone, it might have been rescued from destruction by a victim of an unfortunate match, or it might have been in possession of a Founder, and placed here for safekeeping as an ancient artifact." Another kiss. "Or maybe Albus himself got hold of it at some time."

The next kiss was not one to be interrupted by additional theories as to how the Marriage Stone got to Hogwarts. It began softly and gently, but quickly moved on to a more urgent, pulse-quickening connection. The two stood in the center of the floor of their sitting room, holding fast to each other, mouths locked. As they stood there, Harry felt a tremendous swirl of emotions coursing through him. He loved holding and being held like this, and feeling Severus' body pressed hard against his, feeling the evidence of Severus' and his own arousal.

The emotions were still new to him, but they felt right. There was something different today, though. Harry felt an urge to assert himself, to claim Severus as HIS bondmate, off-limits to everyone else. It went beyond the flutter of what was probably jealousy he'd noticed when Nicotris cast her appraising glance at Severus earlier; he felt this deep in his bones, coursing through his blood, flashing in his magic. He noticed that Severus was gently guiding them to move toward the bedroom, and he allowed himself to be guided to the more private room. Once they passed the threshold, though, he began tugging at Severus' robes and buttons, barely resisting the temptation to wandlessly banish all their clothing. They could probably have gotten out of their clothes more quickly had either been willing to break the kiss, but even in the throes of a passionate kiss, they eventually managed.

Severus did not know what had come over Harry, but he was not going to break the mood. He always got concerned when Harry withdrew or grew sullen, and relished seeing the younger man take such an active role in the physical aspect of their relationship. He allowed Harry to lead them to the bed, and allowed himself to be pushed back onto it as Harry knelt straddling his hips and bent down to continue the kiss.

As Harry's hands moved over his body, Severus began to feel the tingle of Harry's magic stroking him, not just on the surface of his skin, but right through him, and he shuddered with pleasure. Every touch, everywhere on his body, carried a jolt of erotic pleasure. This was apparently a mutual experience, as Harry was writhing and moaning just as he was. When they came, they came together with a release that was not just physical but emotional, mental, total.

They rested side-by-side, hands intertwined, as they recovered their strength, neither having words to describe what had just occurred. Harry stirred first, sitting up on his knees as he looked down at Severus, who was silently cursing the strength of youth that Harry was recovered so quickly. Harry marveled at the amazing man who was his – and his alone. He was so incredibly handsome, and his body was beyond amazing. He'd absolutely loved touching Severus. They had groped and squeezed and stroked. He had never imagined that anything could give him as much pleasure he had just experienced.

Harry gently rolled Severus to lie on his stomach, and hopped over to straddle his legs. Severus was momentarily confused, but relaxed when he felt Harry's surprisingly strong fingers prodding and kneading the muscles in his shoulders and then across his back. There was a soothing warmth, not buzzing electricity, in the magic conveyed in these touches, at least while the massage focused on Severus' upper back. Harry was slowly working his way down Severus' torso, and as he began squeezing and prodding the muscles in Severus' butt, the magic changed. Or maybe the magic did not change, but the proximity of Harry's hands to Severus' prostate as he imparted his magic certainly changed Severus' reaction. The jolts of pleasure that went straight into his prostate had Severus bucking and groaning. In the back of his mind, a small place that managed not to be totally overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through his body, Severus wondered – for all his care and concern about not initiating penetrative sex until he was sure Harry wanted and was ready for it, was Harry about to resolve the matter for them in a very unexpected way?

Harry seemed unaware of Severus' inner dialog and continued his massage down Severus' legs, as the older man recovered from another, most unexpected release into the mattress.


	17. Ch 94 Learning Experiences

Chapter 94 – Learning Experiences

Harry and Severus walked in companionable silence from the dungeons to the Great Hall for breakfast on Monday morning. Harry glanced up at Severus as they walked, and was shocked to see him looking furtively at the walls of the corridors with a very distressed expression on his face. He had been fine when they left their rooms, so Harry had no idea what was causing this.

"What's wrong, Severus? Don't you feel well?"

Severus seemed distracted, and did not answer Harry, so Harry took him by the arm to get his attention.

"What's going on? Why are you looking at the walls like that?"

They'd stopped now in the last corridor that afforded them a measure of privacy – around the next turn, they'd be in a corridor regularly traveled by students. Severus was clearly upset about something. He seemed to be trying to draw Harry behind him, to protect him in some way. Harry was getting more confused as the moments passed, as he saw no danger in the corridor. His green eyes were clouded with concern. He finally slipped his arm around Severus' waist, lest the taller man needed support.

"Please, Severus, tell me what's wrong."

With a voice that was almost a whisper, Severus finally answered. "Why are there so many house elves in this corridor? I've never seen so many of them before, aside from down by the kitchens. What would cause them to behave like this?"

Harry chuffed out a small laugh of relief as he shook his head. "Oh. The Headmaster can probably explain this better than me, but house elves apparently go about their business invisibly, except that a few of us can see them. They pop into view of everyone when a witch or wizard summons them. Is this the first time you've noticed them?"

Directing a look at Harry, Severus replied "Well, if I had seen them before, it would be less likely that I'd find this all as concerning as I do, don't you think?"

Harry thought to himself that if the snark was back, Severus couldn't be too upset. He gently squeezed Severus around the middle as he chuckled again.

"I saw them for the first time as the Headmaster and I walked out of the castle to go to the Calling. He said that he can see them, too. You get used to it. Just watch out about making eye contact, or they pop into view in front of you immediately. They are invisible to just about everybody else."

Harry gave Severus another small hug around his waist as he started walking again toward the Great Hall. While Severus walked along, his arm still protectively around Harry's shoulders, his thoughts were roiling. He was powerful wizard, with long and broad experience in the wizarding world, and there wasn't much he hadn't seen. So why was he so nonplussed to discover something new about his world, something that he'd never suspected before? And why did Harry already know about it? Harry was such a novice in this world, and here he is telling Severus that house elves are invisible! And while the thought of those little creatures keeping themselves hidden like that made him very uncomfortable, Severus was further astonished that this was something else that Harry simply took in stride.

While Severus was still mulling all this over in his mind, Albus appeared in the corridor, looking for them.

"Ah, my boys! Is everything well with you?"

The old coot went out of his way, down a corridor that was nowhere near where he was heading at this time of morning, to ask about their health?

"We are fine, Albus. Just making our way to the Great Hall for breakfast. And you?" Severus replied, his irritation warring with a growing curiosity.

The old man looked sharply at Harry, and then at Severus, his eyes betraying nothing but his demeanor suggesting concern.

"Severus, forgive me, but all does not seem well with you this morning."

Harry could not see what the fuss was about. Obviously, Professor Dumbledore could sense that Severus was upset. So had he. He'd just gotten Severus to acknowledge that he was distressed at suddenly seeing the invisible house elves. He decided to fill in the gaps for the Headmaster and get this over with.

"Sir, Severus just realized that he can see the house elves standing around the edges of rooms and here in the corridor – they aren't invisible to him, either. I remember how uncomfortable it was when I first learned about that. He's just getting used to it, I imagine."

The Headmaster was momentarily stunned with that news, his blue eyes shifting quickly between Harry and Severus. He recovered quickly, though. Patting Severus on the shoulder as they headed as a group toward the next corridor, he offered "It is very disconcerting when you realize how house elf magic works, but once you are used to it, you don't even notice anymore." The twinkle returned to his eyes, and he gestured expansively. "A very exciting day awaits. Harry, Augusta and I appreciate your attending the opening of her class, just to say a few words of welcome. I know you want to get to your classes, and it will be fine if you are a few minutes late to your first class."

X X X X X X X X X X

Mrs. Longbottom's class was getting settled on benches around a large open area. Harry stood in the center of the open area, looking a bit awkward, to welcome his guests.

"I spoke to each of our guests as they arrived yesterday, and I'd like to repeat my welcome to the other guests who arrived just this morning, and wish you all a productive class. Most important, I want to thank Mrs. Longbottom for offering to share her knowledge with others. She's faced things in her lifetime that most of us have never seen before, but we're likely to be seeing soon. Her willingness to share her experience and teach others who will handle those things is remarkable. I am so grateful to her. I'd also like to thank her grandson, my classmate, Neville, for assisting in the program, and Hermione Granger, as well, who is helping here and with Mrs. Longbottom's articles in the Daily Prophet."

Mrs. Longbottom took Harry's place as he headed off to his classes. She spoke for a bit, and then with Neville's and Hermione's assistance, began demonstrating some rather complicated spells. In short order, she had her class divided into teams to begin practicing those spells.

There was some reluctance at first among the older students, especially those from foreign auror corps and governments, to try something this complicated in a public setting, where others might see them fail. Mrs. Longbottom had taken care in setting up the teams to be sure that she did not have people who worked together on the same team, but she sensed a general discomfort.

One spell in particular was causing many students difficulty, so she asked Neville and a volunteer to step forward and repeat the demonstration. Sirius Black was well on his way to solidifying his identity as the class clown, and with a charming smile, he immediately volunteered to join Neville in front of the group. Severus smirked as Sirius preened, but kept his inner commentary (largely focused on the insatiable egos of certain Gryffindors) to himself.

Mrs. Longbottom explained the steps to the spell again, and asked Sirius and Neville to cast it. Sirius managed to mangle the spell to the extent that he blasted a large chunk of stone out of the far wall, while Neville executed it perfectly. At this point, Sirius' gregarious nature came to the fore. He shook his head with chagrin at the mess he'd made, but immediately refocused on the need to get that spell right. He clapped Neville on the shoulder as he praised his casting, and insisted that the younger man walk him slowly through the spell. Neville looked terrified, but he followed Sirius' lead. With some encouragement and good natured back-and-forth banter between them, Sirius was finally able to cast the spell acceptably.

That started to break the ice. Suddenly people were much less inhibited as they tried their best with difficult and complicated spells. When the group broke for lunch, Sirius was overheard chatting with Pharaoh Nitrocris about the Calling, and Albus was overheard commenting to the head of the Bulgarian auror corps that, yes, Sirius Black was joining the International Confederation of Sorcerers. As the gossip made its way through the class in the afternoon, people began to realize that Sirius was not only a bit of a showoff, but also a very strong and powerful wizard. His willingness to fail before the group made everyone much more comfortable that it was not evidence of their incompetence or weakness that they, too, might be struggling. Progress accelerated as students stopped holding back, although as the day progressed, it became clear that the house elves would probably have to replace at least one wall in the classroom that night.

Years later, when Mrs. Longbottom was asked about her most memorable moment from her program at Hogwarts, she described Neville coaching the Headmaster and Sirius Black to help them with spells that neither had been able to master right away. While no one ever asked Neville, it was very likely something he remembered as well.

As the group was about to break for the first day, Hermione took the floor. People had noticed that she'd easily managed all the spells they'd been taught that day, to the surprise of several of her much older and more credentialed classmates. A hush fell over the room to hear what she had to say.

"I would like to ask you all to join us this evening in a group spell casting. You might have heard that You-Know-Who used the Dark Mark to draw power from his Death Eaters to cast his sleeping spell. After Harry woke everyone with magic and then cast a stasis spell on the sleeping muggles, we knew we needed to disrupt You-Know-Who's plans. We decided that our best approach was to dissolve the Dark Marks. That way, he can't use the Marks to either summon people to him or draw their power. We developed a spell to do that – it's very complicated, but Professors Snape and Dumbledore and I will gladly work with anyone who wants to try to learn it. After dinner, Professor Dumbledore will invite those who wish to participate in the casting to go as a group out past the Hogwarts wards, under escort of the Winter Land warriors. Harry Potter will command the ley lines in the earth to receive our spell. While he gets us into the ley lines, several of us will cast the spell, and still others will cast an Iuntcus spell to blend our spell into a powerful burst of magic. Unfortunately, the spell has a directional component to it, and casting takes a great deal out of us, so we cast in random directions every night. I don't intend to place any pressure on anyone to do this. If you are unsure, you can come along to watch and then make up your mind. Anyway, it's interesting and I hope some of you will want to do this."

The members of the class seemed quite excited at the prospect of participating, and it was pretty much all the conversation at the Head Table that evening. Those who'd participated in some of the castings before shared their stories, and the excitement at joining in removed any lingering tiredness from the long day in the class. That evening, when Professor Dumbledore stood to invite all those who wished to participate in the casting to join them, every qualified witch and wizard in the castle went to join in.

The Hogwarts professors got all the participants sorted and placed around the stone that Harry had identified as the best place to access the ley lines. When everyone was in position, Harry pointed his wand at this throat to place a Sonorus charm on himself and turned to address the group.

"Thank you all, again, for joining in with us tonight to cast this spell. As Professor Dumbledore told you, I'll cast my spell first, asking the earth to open the ley lines and allow the other spell entrance. When the earth is ready to receive that spell, it will be cast by those who have mastered it, amplified by an Iuntus spell from the rest." Looking behind Severus, the Headmaster and Hermione at those who would be casting the Iunctus spell, he added "Don't worry if you find that you can't cast the spell – it's really, really complicated. I couldn't get it. . ."

Chuckles greeted that admission, and with his usual self-depreciating shrug and a small grin, Harry turned, cancelled the Sonorus charm, and cast his spell.

On the way back into the castle, Severus walked along with Harry. Harry had already gotten a great deal of information about how the day had gone in Mrs. Longbottom's class from Hermione, Neville and Nitrocris at the Gryffindor table, but he was interested in Severus' take on the day.

"Your godfather made quite the spectacle, nearly took down a wall with a miscast spell. On a much more surprising note, Longbottom did rather well. He was no doubt extensively tutored by his grandmother, but he did seem to have a grasp of the work."

Harry beamed at him. This wasn't even about Neville's Herbology skills, so it was amazing praise indeed! He also noticed that Neville, for once, was just "Longbottom," not "your Mr. Longbottom," another noteworthy advance.

"I have some homework and translations to do. Do you think you'll be brewing tonight?" Harry wanted to know. If Severus was going to be in his lab, Harry would set up his work at his desk in the lab, otherwise he'd get comfortable in front of the fireplace. The Headmaster had made other arrangements for the Potions classes while Severus was attending Mrs. Longbottom's program, so he was free of the usual chore of marking essays for a few days.

"That's a good suggestion. I have the time now. I see Longbottom up ahead; I'll ask him to assist in harvesting some buds and get started brewing."

Severus lengthened his stride once Harry veered off to follow the path back to the castle, and quickly caught up with Neville, who was heading in the direction of the greenhouses.

"Mr. Longbottom, I hate to extend what I am sure has been a long day for you, but I was wondering if you might be able to help me harvest some buds from the rosa caedes."

A small gulp was the only evidence of Neville's terror at being spoken to by his least favorite professor. "Sure, Professor. I have to go to the greenhouses right now, to take care of a few of the plants. This one is pretty easy-going, now that it's settled, so I can get what you need right away."

Severus followed Neville to the greenhouse that contained the rosa caedes. Severus found the plant and stood admiring it while Neville retrieved a dragonhide apron, a pair of soft leather gloves with dragonhide gauntlets and a small pair of nippers from the bench by the door. He had to admit, the plant had done very well under Neville's care. There were numerous buds, many large, fragrant flowers blooming, and he'd swear this plant was a good foot taller than it had been when Mr. Landon delivered it.

"Sir, do you know the location on the plant from which you want me to harvest these?"

Severus gave Neville a very puzzled look. "What does that matter?"

"I read up on the properties of magical roses in one of Professor Sprout's old manuscripts. The rosa caedes buds, in particular, are very sensitive to the pull of ley lines, so their location on the north, south, east or west side of the plant creates differences in their magical properties. Floris sempiternitas has lunar properties, so anything harvested from that plant will have properties based on the different phases of the moon."

Nothing that Severus had read in either Ventus' or his mother's notes said anything about this, but Neville spoke with total conviction. While Severus retained more than a little doubt about Neville, this seemed to be his area of expertise, so he wasn't entirely willing to discount the input entirely. "The notes said nothing about that, so I don't know. Might I have a look at your reference material? Possibly there is some suggestion as to how location or lunar phase would matter in a potion, which might help me determine which to use? For now, let's harvest four buds from each of the four corners of the compass, and label them."

Neville donned his protective apron and gloves and, working quickly but carefully, stepped up to the plant and gently snipped small buds from different sides, depositing them into small envelopes on which he recorded the location from which the buds inside were harvested. He handed the envelopes to Severus. "If you'd wait a minute, I left the reference book in Professor Sprout's office. I'll be right back."

Moments later, Neville offered Severus a large, very old and worn book. "This manuscript is one Professor Sprout allows me to use from her library. People who've used this book over the years have added their own notes and observations in the margins. I have worked with it before, never regarding roses, of course, but the notes in the margins have always been accurate in other areas. I'm sure Professor Sprout would be pleased to have you add any observations that you make based on your research."

X X X X X X X X X X

Severus recounted his conversation with Neville as he and Harry settled in for some brewing and homework, respectively, later that evening.

"See, I told you Neville knows plants. He's like this different person when he's talking plants, isn't he?"

As much as it pained him to do so, Severus had to agree. "I do find it hard to believe that he has insights into properties in these plants that neither Ventus nor my mother mentioned in their notes. Those notes are very detailed, and I absolutely would have expected some mention of this, somewhere. I suspect I will have to approach this as an experiment, and test the properties of the buds harvested from the different locations, one by one."

Harry couldn't decide if it was more amazing that Neville Longbottom, of all people, would be offering advice on a potions ingredient to Severus, or that Severus would actually take such advice seriously. Both eventualities were utterly astonishing and he smiled with pleasure at this most unexpected development.

Severus smirked at Harry's grin. He perched on a stool at his laboratory table as he began reading the book Neville provided, taking his own detailed notes as he did so, as Harry got started on an essay for Charms. Eventually, Severus felt he'd captured the insights of the author of the book, and the insights of the three or four later readers who had annotated the book with their own comments. It puzzled him. If the book was to be believed, the rosa caedas rivaled Wizarding sugar root for the variety of effects achievable based on where on the plant it was harvested, in the case of the rose, or how it was prepared, in the case of the sugar root.

Would it be possible for him to discern which of the various possible properties were the desired ones in the potions he was going to try to brew? He knew from his years of experience that there was no substitute in a situation like this for careful experimentation. He had no choice here but to use ingredients new to him in a potion for which he had only some vague theories. He knew that some approaches will be total failures, but solving the puzzle would be all the more satisfying when the challenge was this great. There was also the prospect of learning about the properties of the plant so that he could incorporate it into other potions, which appealed to his sensibilities as a Potions Master.

Severus placed four cauldrons on his table, as once the time came to add the rosebuds, he would need to start separate potions. He brought the potion base he'd made earlier to a boil in one cauldron as he carefully prepared the buds, dicing them precisely and neatly. He added the other, more familiar ingredients, stirring them together, watching colors change and checking that the consistency was as expected. When the time came to add prepared rosebuds, he split his boiling potion into four cauldrons.

Severus carefully placed the diced buds harvested from the east-facing side of the plant onto a long-handled spoon, and gently added them to the boiling base. His face bore an expression of curiosity tinged with a bit of nervousness; he really did not know what was going to happen.

Nothing happened.

After stirring as directed in the notes for several minutes, all Severus had were little bits of plant material bobbing along merrily in the liquid like little corks, completely impervious to the moisture. With a small sigh, he stood back from the cauldron and stopped the flame beneath it.

The sigh, and his muttering, drew Harry's attention away from an admittedly rather boring Charms essay. Harry could not contain his curiosity, and slowly walked over to take a peek into the cauldron. He had to stifle a laugh. He'd seen this outcome in Potions class; it had even happened to him a time or two. It was usually good for at least a zero for the day, and sometimes for a loss of House points, or even a detention. And look who did this! He apparently did not stifle his laugh completely enough. Severus had already turned his back and was making notes at his own desk, but said over his shoulder "Is something funny?"

"Um . . . the last time I saw a potion look like this, I think you took five points from Gryffindor."

"And properly so. We were brewing a very simple healing potion as I recall, and had the ingredients been prepared correctly, there was no excuse for the ingredients to float like that on the surface. When experimenting with ingredients for which all properties are not known, at times, an ingredient will not blend as one might have hoped. We have now observed a curious resistance to moisture in the buds from the east side of a rosa caedes. This will have to be explored, but for now, it appears that these are not the buds we need for Ventus' potion."

The second cauldron was set up, and this time, carefully prepared rosebuds from the north side of the rosa caedes were stirred into the potion. Almost immediately, the contents of the cauldron thickened, first into an oatmeal consistency, but then they kept on thickening so rapidly that Severus did not even have a chance to extract the stirrer he had been using. In all likelihood, that cauldron would need to be discarded, as the potion was now a solid block.

Severus took a moment to make some notes about these two failures. Harry was surprised that Severus did not seem upset. He certainly carried on when a student's potion ended up as either of these two did, but he was carefully documenting exactly what he did and what happened in response, with no sign of irritation or annoyance. It was time for the next portion of rosebuds to go into the third cauldron.

As Severus stirred those buds into the potion, there were hissing and spitting noises, and some steam started to rise from the liquid. The hissing got louder, and the steam more billowing, until Severus realized the potion was about to explode. He got a shielding spell in place just in time, as the cauldron erupted, spewing fiery, glowing material in a column that nearly reached the ceiling. Fortunately, Harry and Severus and their desks were protected by the shield, because the glowing glop fell all over the room and some of the surfaces began to smolder. Severus quickly levitated some of the glop back into the cauldron for further study and banished the rest before it could ignite a fire or cause other damage.

Harry silently held his breath, expecting some sort of explosion from his bondmate. To his astonishment, Severus looked fascinated by what had just happened. He'd just produced a Neville-worthy potions accident, and seemed almost pleased with himself. He turned immediately to enter his observations into his notes. When Severus was done with his notes this time, Harry dared to speak. "Did you just blow up a cauldron, Severus? What happened?"

"According to the book, the roses from the south-facing side of the plant bring heat to a potion. Apparently, a great deal of heat. That small portion caused the liquid base to evaporate and the remaining ingredients to explode. I never saw anything like that!"

They both watched intently then, when Severus gently stirred the last portion of buds, harvested from the west side of the plant, into the final cauldron. There was just the sound of softly boiling liquid for about a minute, when Severus laughed softly. "That seems to have been the right place to harvest the rosebuds. This is what we were supposed to get."

Harry cautiously approached the cauldron, and saw a beautiful shimmering turquoise liquid bubbling away.

X X X X X X X X X X

One floor above the dungeons, in a classroom across the hall from the Hufflepuff Common Room, a harassed looking Amaranth Savoy was meeting with Professor Sprout and several of the squibs she had recruited for this project, among them Petunia Dursley.

"We've got to finalize the agenda for the Introduction to the Magical World program. This has gotten much bigger than I ever expected when we proposed it to the Headmaster, Pomona."

"Well, dear, the Headmaster brought it up at a staff meeting, and people got enthused. Better than the alternative, I imagine."

Amaranth had originally envisioned a weekly session of an hour or so, and that included time for butterbeer or pumpkin juice and sweet cakes, and she expected it would run for four or five weeks. She expected the content to include things like the moving portraits, Wizard space, and house elves. However, as more people heard about the program and shared their ideas, it was turning into something quite different. Wizards and squibs alike had suggestions, and the topics now extended to substantive topics like Wizard law, banking and government, as well as magical creatures and plants. Amaranth's program would have to run at least to the end of the school year, and maybe into the summer, and if she stuck to her weekly frequency, it appeared that the sessions would each have to be at least two, if not three hours.

The most awkward part of the exercise was turning out to be selecting presenters to invite for the different parts of the program. Amaranth had been worried that she'd not have access to enough people who could speak competently on the different parts of her world, but she was experiencing something quite the opposite. She had more volunteers than she knew what to do with, often multiples for one program. And these were not just your average, ordinary wizards, either. The volunteers included three members of the Wizengamot, the president of Gringotts, and the Headmaster and half the staff at Hogwarts.

With a sigh, Amaranth opened the parchment in front of her.

"Alright. I think maybe we should open the program with something that will make people comfortable, not so academic. I was thinking maybe taking Mrs. Weasley up on her offer to speak about Magical Homekeeping. She suggested the topic and seemed pretty passionate about it. It's got a practical element, and if someone is now going to be part of this world, you'll see these things sooner or later." Many of the squibs had seen Mrs. Weasley out and about in the castle (with her flaming red hair and expanding belly, she was hard to miss), and those who'd met her liked her and enthusiastically endorsed the suggestion.

"Hagrid wants to speak about Magical Creatures, which I think is a good subject, but he's a bit scary himself, let alone his beasts, so maybe we put him a bit later in the program. Madam Pomfrey offered to speak about Magical Healing; she's another one who won't scare people away, and I think people will find her subject very interesting and useful. Maybe she follows Mrs. Weasley." Again, the men and women at the table nodded.

The Hogwarts teachers had all volunteered to speak about their subjects, which was all well and good, although Amaranth and Professor Sprout agreed that the generous offers to present on Arithmancy and Ancient Runes were probably best declined. Pomona herself graciously suggested that she and Amaranth's friend, Mr. Landon, could share a presentation on Magical Plants, which solved one of Amaranth's more delicate "volunteer" problems. Everyone had met Professor Flitwick, and agreed that his Elfish heritage would not distract from his lessons, plus his discussions about Charms would deal with the moving pictures. All agreed that Divination would be interesting to include, but several squibs were quite taken aback to learn that the teacher deemed best suited to do the presentation was a centaur. "He's fascinating, actually," Professor Sprout offered. "Knows quite a bit about astronomy, too, which means we can avoid a separate class on that. And he gets us around to magical creatures, too."

"Did you mention that Professor Dumbledore offered to give us a brief history of Hogwarts, Amaranth?" a young squib named Chester wanted to know.

"Good catch there, Chester. Maybe we need him to lead off the bit about Hogwarts and the subjects we teach here," Professor Sprout agreed.

"Sir Nicholas has volunteered to speak about ghosts and poltergeists, as has Professor Binns. We have to go with Sir Nick; can you help me out with how to do that, Pomona?" Amaranth remembered her student days well enough to know that the Professor was too boring, too lost in his minute and irrelevant details to be tasked with presenting at a session like hers.

"This looks good for the day-to-day ways of wizarding life. We have some very generous offers to speak on weightier issues – wizarding history, law, politics, government, economy. I'd suggest that we start out with Wizarding History and Politics. Remus Lupin has offered to speak. He's on the Wizengamot, has taught here at Hogwarts, and students think he's wonderful. I understand that he has a great grasp of the big picture, and all."

Petunia recognized that name. He was the brute who hit her! She'd been so good, really, she had, and had held her tongue through this entire discussion, even nodded pleasantly in agreement with what everyone wanted to do. But this is an esteemed person in this world? And they want to have him speak to the group? She started to speak "He's the brute. ." but her accusation was lost in a loud belch that she could not control. Mortified, she covered her mouth and excused herself.

Amaranth looked after her with sad understanding, and commented as the door closed behind Petunia, "Poor thing. She must still be having trouble getting used to the food here." Shuffling the parchment, she continued. "Lord Lucius Malfoy wants to speak about Wizarding Law, Government and the Ministry of Magic."

Pomona grimaced slightly before commenting. "Normally, I'd have recommended that we find some reason not to include him, but the Headmaster spoke very favorably about inviting him, so I think we have to do it. Likewise Griphook, who proposes to speak about the Wizarding Economy. Nasty creature, that one, but Albus was quite strong in his support there, too."

Amaranth brightened as she consulted her parchment. "Final two subjects. Mr. Weasley, that tall red-headed gentleman we've seen here on weekends, has proposed speaking about Wizard – Muggle Relations, and specifically about the things the Ministry is doing to restore and preserve the muggle world. He works for the Ministry, right, Pomona?"

"He's a mid-level functionary, but far better than most of the politicians. Albus supports his speaking, and I'm sure the Minister herself will vet what he's going to say. I'll mention that to Albus, and he'll be able to arrange it. Arthur is an awfully nice person and I'm sure he'll make a good impression."

Amaranth was surprised at the last volunteer. And all things considered, it was probably a good thing that Petunia had lost her composure a few minutes earlier and left already, because it would have been very difficult for her to witness the last part of the meeting. "Harry Potter has offered to speak? To the squibs?" Amaranth seemed overcome with emotion.

Professor Sprout stepped in to cover for the younger woman. "He's a very fine young man. He's not one to call attention to himself, but he felt it's important to be sure as many people as possible know what happened here, why You-Know-Who did what he did, how he did it, and how we are working to disrupt his plans to prevent him from succeeding. I think the lad will do well with that."

The squibs all looked a bit confused by Amaranth's emotional response, but were all beginning to understand that young Harry Potter was a special person in this new world of theirs.

Professor Sprout brought the meeting to a close. "Pumpkin juice, butterbeer and tea, as well as some cakes are on the table by the window. Help yourselves."

X X X X X X X X X X

Way up in the Tower, the Gryffindor Common Room was buzzing with the description of the first day of Mrs. Longbottom's class. Several of the older students were looking forward to attending the evening program, and they were anxious to learn what to expect, whereas younger students were excited to hear about it on general principle.

Nitrocris, seated comfortably on one of the large couches, was quite effusive in her praise of Neville, who blushed crimson at the attention. "When your grandmother asked you and Lord Black to demonstrate that spell to repel inferi, I did not realize how complicated that was. I watched you cast the spell, and you made it look effortless; it probably would have been more entertaining to watch Lord Black, though, given how he destroyed half a wall with his spell."

That observation led, of course, to a full description of Sirius' escapades and of the crumbling wall left for the house elves to fix when the class ended, all accompanied by much hooting and laughter. Every description of the performance in the class of Professors Dumbledore and Snape were also listened to with particular enthusiasm, and any missteps reported were the subject of a new round of hoots and laughter.

Hermione was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall next to the fireplace with her knees drawn up in front of her, watching the proceedings with interest. More accurately, she was watching Neville and Nitrocris. To a casual observer (a category that fit most Gryffindors), she might have been a bit tired after the class and then the casting, so no one commented on the fact that she was more quiet than usual. She was fascinated by what she saw.

Neville was his usual shy and retiring self, looking down at the floor, afraid to speak up or draw attention to himself. She'd been a shy person all her life, so knew what that felt like. Nitrocris, on the other hand, was the polar opposite. She was very self-possessed and confident, very at ease. She wasn't like Sirius, who in truth did seem to crave attention a bit too much at times. She wasn't looking for attention, just very adept at handling it when it came her way.

And, amazingly, Nitrocris was paying a great deal of attention to Neville. He was drawn back into the conversation every time he tried to back away, inevitably by Nitrocris. She spoke glowingly of what he had done in the class, and had clearly watched him closely all day. The competition for Nitrocris' attention was fierce over there, especially among Seamus and Dean, but pretty much among all of the boys (including, to Hermione's annoyance, Ron), but none of them were capturing her eye the way Neville apparently had.

Hermione reminded herself that it was entirely possible that the Pharaoh had simply been impressed with Neville's poise and competence under the admittedly difficult circumstances created in Mrs. Longbottom's class, and her attention to him reflected nothing more than admiration. But the looks the other young woman was giving Neville sure suggested it was more than that.

X X X X X X X X X X

Up in the highest tower, where the Headmaster's rooms were located behind his office, Albus Dumbledore was ready for bed in a nightshirt of bright orange, across which shooting stars of deep purple were moving back and forth. Before retiring, though, he prepared to practice the new spells he'd learned that day.

It wasn't often that someone his age got to learn a spell he'd never encountered before. First, he'd had the exciting experience of developing and mastering the spell to dissolve the Dark Mark. He'd thought then that he was so fortunate to have had such an opportunity to still be stretching his mental and magical abilities at his age. And now today, several of the spells Augusta had trotted out were things he'd never heard of before. He was not so immodest to think that he knew all the defensive spells, but still – there weren't many that he'd never encountered. And there were three in today's class alone!

Quietly, and with great intensity, the old man called up his memory of the movements he'd been coached on earlier in the day and went through those movements. Those were three spells he'd remember in the future.

After an hour of thoughtful practice, which he found exhilarating and relaxing, Albus retired to bed.


	18. Ch 95 Close Encounters

Chapter 95 – Close Encounters

The first week of Mrs. Longbottom's course was over in a trice. The people in the class were surprised how fast the time had passed, and amazed that they were as tired as they were from a week that many anticipated would be a doddle. The only one who seemed almost refreshed by the experience was, not surprisingly, the indomitable Mrs. Longbottom herself.

The owls delivered newspapers daily from around the world, all reporting modest attacks on wizards and their communities, but most of the activity seemed to be centered in and around London. It was clear that the dedicated Death Eaters were finding each other, and presumably Voldemort was finding at least some of them. However, the power of the Dark Mark was largely gone. The attacks were as vicious and damaging as one wizard, or maybe two, could make them, but the real devastation of a large casting drawing power from many wizards was missing. That did not stop Harry from feeling a nagging concern that this was the calm before the storm.

The only event midweek that disturbed the smooth passage of time was Professor McGonagall's suggestion to the Headmaster that it was time for Pharaoh Nitrocris to move from Gryffindor tower to one of the other Houses. The young ruler was quite upset when she heard of the comment.

Hermione immediately shared her observations that the Pharaoh seemed quite smitten by Neville Longbottom with the older woman, who despite her frosty exterior, quite relished a good bit of gossip. A rare smile flickered across her face as she said "Well, Miss Granger, most interesting! We did agree that the Pharaoh would either stay in the House to which she was sorted for the duration of her stay, or spend some time in each of the four Houses before we discovered the Sorting Hat's conclusion. Maybe . . . " With a twinkle in her eye, she ended the conversation, to go in search of the Headmaster.

"Now, Albus, I know we agreed that the young lady would move among all the Houses, but no one could have anticipated this development."

The older wizard looked across his steaming teacup with a grin. Minerva was such a romantic – this story of "young love" had really captured her imagination. "I certainly appreciate the charm of this situation, Minerva, but there was a condition attached to her housing arrangements, and we must honor that. If we know how the Sorting Hat placed her, she would need to be lodged in that House for her stay here, and it might not be Gryffindor."

Now it was Minerva's turn to smile. "If there was some reason to refrain from moving her to a different House, though, for some reason, say, I assume that she could remain in her current lodging?"

With a small sigh, Albus just looked at his Deputy Headmistress, whose eyes were twinkling just as his often did. "I suspect I do not wish to know where this is going. Yes, Minerva, there could be circumstances, I suppose, where it would be more prudent to leave the Pharaoh in her current location rather than move her about. I hope whatever situation arises is not one that we all come to regret."

The smallest smile flickered across her face as Professor McGonagall stood and took her leave. "Of course, Headmaster."

The next morning, Albus was not entirely surprised to learn that Madam Pomfrey had been summoned to the Gryffindor seventh year girls' dormitory during the night before to deal with a case of verdemengus. One of the young women had complained of a headache before retiring, and awoke during the night with large green blotches all over her body. The condition was not life-threatening, or even all that difficult to treat, but it was potentially contagious. Madam Pomfrey quickly removed the patient to the Infirmary, and checked over the others sharing the dormitory. None of them were ill, but each was dosed with the potion that would cure the condition, just in case. As a further precaution against allowing this to spread to others, Madam Pomfrey spoke privately with Professor McGonagall and Pharaoh Nitrocris and recommended that there be no movement among dormitories at this time, just in case.

Nitrocris looked very pleased with that recommendation, to the very well-disguised amusement of Professor McGonagall.

X X X X X X X X X X

Saturday morning was a busy time at the castle, as the aides and business associates of many of those attending the class arrived by floo and port key to brief their colleagues on matters back at the office, or palace, or wherever, and receive their input and orders.

Harry was anxious to be away from the castle when all the guests arrived, lest he be expected to get involved in matters that were not his to deal with. He needed a break. There was a group of students heading in to Hogsmeade for the day, but he'd not been there since the attack and had no intention of going there now. Ron was organizing a group for some flying, but frankly, the Quidditch pitch was still a shambles, and that did not appeal, either.

The only person whose plans were even remotely acceptable to Harry was Neville. He was going to tend to his plants quickly and then accompany several warriors from the Winter Lands back to their farms. While the circumstances of his original arrival at the Winter Lands was a bad memory, the prospect of helping the warriors recover their world was very appealing. Neville was going to assist in reclaiming the farms that had been abandoned and now needed to be readied for planting, and that was just the kind of diversion Harry was looking for.

Severus had been looking forward to some further brewing. After the excitement of evaluating the properties of the buds from the different sides of the rosa caedes, he had begun to make some interesting strides in his evening brewing in replicating some of the potions described in Silvius Ventus' notes. He was already coming to some conclusions of his own as to avenues of research that needed further exploration. However, when Harry mentioned his intent to join Neville on a jaunt to the Winter Lands, of all places, he had to revise his own plans. There was no way on earth he was allowing Harry to go back to the Winter Lands on his own like that.

"The Headmaster still has a supply of the butterbeer caps he'd made into portkeys when we thought he needed to rescue you last Christmas. I assume whoever is organizing this adventure has already secured an adequate supply?"

"Of course, Severus. You don't have to come, you know. Neville's good with his defensive spells. You've seen that in the class, haven't you? His gram's been working with him on that. Plus, we'll be with Ullen and Gennerd – they're the two Vikings who are over seven feet tall. And all their men. We'll be safe."

Severus offered a trademark sneer at that last comment. "Mr. Potter, somehow, no matter now safe the circumstances appear to be, you manage to attract danger. I'm taking no chances. I'm also going to look for some of the plants that grow wild up there. The soil of the Winter Lands is renowned for its magical properties, and the magical plants that grow there might be useful for potions."

Harry sneered, albeit with not quite the same effect, back at his bondmate. "Always the potions, eh? You'd probably accept an invitation to the gates of hell if you thought there'd be an interesting plant there."

Severus quirked his eyebrow at that, but let it pass. In his mind's eye, he saw himself and Pomona Sprout strolling through the rose maze at Briarwood Hall to collect a rose bush; Harry had no idea how close to reality he'd come with that observation, and he did not need to call it out. Instead, he handed the younger man his cloak and followed him out of the door from their rooms.

X X X X X X X X X X

A group of Viking warriors, two Hogwarts students and one Potions Professor arrived on a farm at the northern reaches of the Winter Lands a short while later. The spring air was still chilly this far north, although the days were growing long already. This farm was one of several spread out from the base of the mountains that Harry guessed were the home of the Black Wyrms. They stood in a compound of sorts, with a large house and several other buildings clustered inside a tall fence. Beyond the fence lay fields that were overgrown and wild now, as the land had been abandoned years ago because of relentless Dementor attacks. While there were Grendlings out there as well, the warriors were able to defend themselves physically from their attacks and would never have abandoned the farmland just because of Grendling attacks.

"Welcome, lads, to Skye Rock Hall" Ullen offered as he gestured around the compound. This was nowhere on the scale of Bifrost Hall, Harry's only other exposure to a Winter Lands habitat, but it clearly housed at least an extended family. Slowly women, children and more men were making their way from the various buildings to greet the new arrivals. Harry, Severus and Neville were all introduced to assorted wives, children, siblings and cousins, reflecting the almost tribal community that lived here.

As the group moved slowly toward the gates to the compound, Ullen hopped up on a large barrel propped near the gates to get the group organized. "Listen up, all. Young Longbottom here knows all about plants. He's going to be offering his suggestions as to how to recover land, and what plants will go best there now. We'll be doing what he suggests, so no arguments or discussion – just get to it. We've nothing to fear any longer from the cursed Dementors; we have Lord Potter and his bondmate, Lord Snape, to thank for that, but we do need to be mindful of Grendlings. Gennerd and his men will be keeping watch for us, and I and my men will be returning the favor when we move on to his farm after lunch. We listen to them, and if they tell us to move, we do what?"

Severus was puzzled by Ullen's comments, but the response to that last question clarified matters. A chorus of children's voices answered Ullen in a shout: "We move!" It was apparently a wild and dangerous place out there, if the heavily armed Viking warriors who were going to be standing guard were any indication. And it was accepted in this culture that the children joined their parents in working the farm, and they'd be going outside the gates with them. It was a chilling realization to Severus that children would be placed in danger like that, and no one thought anything of it.

So much for Harry's assurances that he was going to be safe here!

The ragtag group followed the Viking warriors under Gellen's command out of the compound into the fields. Neville had gotten some preliminary information about the farm from Ullen before this trip, and had already worked up some plans. When he saw the group grabbing shovels and rakes to start clearing the land using physical labor rather than magic, he gestured to Harry. His friend immediately recognized that he and Severus could get this done in almost no time using their magic. Harry took Severus by the arm and whispered "Severus, you and I can clear the land for them; it will take just minutes, and leave them more time to do the planting and such. Alright?"

While Severus had not joined this expedition to actually engage in farming, he realized the truth of Harry's statement, and nodded. The less time the spent outside the walls of the Skye Rock compound, the safer everyone would be. The group was asked to step back, and Harry and Severus needed just minutes to send their magic out to turn over the ground, mark out rows and make the land ready for planting. Neville organized the Vikings into work teams and walked with them across the now-plowed fields, assessing the land and the microclimates and determining which of the seeds and small plants he'd brought with him from Hogwarts were most suitable in each place. As he re-sized and dispensed seeds and plants, the groups made quick work of getting things into the ground.

The fields were restored to a productive farm before lunchtime. The children took a few minutes to play in the freedom of the open space before everyone went back into the safety of the walled compound.

Severus was silently thanking all the deities he could think of that most children were beyond this squealing and screetching by the time they got to Hogwarts, or he surely would have killed at least one student by now. However, as he stood surveying the scene unfolding in the fields, his eyes followed one particularly boisterous hell spawn who was bounding around the very northern edge of the newly-planted field. The boy was trampling around some shrubs that piqued Severus' curiosity. Growing wild in the land right beyond the field, in front of the forest that rimmed the bottom of the mountain that loomed overhead, he thought he saw a magical forsythia.

Despite his concerns that close proximity to this child would almost certainly lead to a bad headache from the accompanying noise, he walked over to inspect the plant whose bright yellow flowers had caught his attention. The child, quite awed by the man to whom his elders showed such respect, grew quiet as he approached, staring at Severus with wide eyes. In the way that children have, he followed along to see what caught Lord Snape's attention. It was almost as if Severus' own curiosity was immediately transferred to the tow-headed boy, and the two crouched down next to one of the shrubs.

These shrubs were indeed a magical form of forsythia. The flowers were the same glowing yellow color as were the flowers of the ubiquitous non-magical variety that grew freely in the muggle world, but Severus had read that these got their bright yellow color from a small burst of sunlight that resided within each flower. He'd never actually seen one of these himself; they required very magical soil and a very specific climate. Naturally, his mind was teeming with thoughts on how an ingredient like this might work in potions.

The young boy had seen this plant before, of course, as they grew freely at the base of the mountain, and provided a great source of fun for children in the spring evenings. He plucked a flower and squeezed it in his hand, to show Lord Snape the little burst of sunlight that emerged from the crushed flower. The burst lingered for a bit in his hand, atop the flower in which it had been imprisoned.

Severus was about to say something when his ears detected the sound of a twig breaking in the forest, not ten feet from where they crouched. When his eyes followed the sound, he found himself peering into glowing red eyes surrounded by thick black fur. Beneath the eyes was a wide mouth open to show yellowish long fangs.

Grendlings.

Simultaneously, Severus heard other twigs snapping along the edge of the forest. A quick sweep of his eyes confirmed that there were at least a dozen Grendlings spread through the forest, all watching him and the boy.

It always amazed Severus how the mind could function, surprisingly clearly, methodically and quickly, in moments of great fear and stress. That was a lesson hard-learned at the hands of the Dark Lord over the years, but it was certainly true today. In an instant, Severus assessed a variety of options. He was pretty sure that he could not out-run a pack of Grendlings, based on what he remembered of them when they fought at the capstone of the Well of Despair. Plus, he had to account for the boy. Carrying him would slow Severus further. He knew he could cast any number of spells rapidly, and had there been greater distance in which to work, he could easily battle his way back to Skye Rock Hall. He would have to deal with so many Grendlings, though, and they'd be on him in an instant, that he might not have time to cast spells against each. He pondered the prospect of casting a spell in an arc. He'd never actually tried that, but it seemed theoretically possible. Repulsion spells drew relatively modest amounts of magical power, so he felt he should be able to hold the spell for the seconds it took to move his arm in an arc that reached to all the places from which the Grendlings would be approaching.

That inner dialog took no more than two or three seconds, during which time Severus and the boy had remained motionless and crouched over the shrub. In one swift motion, Severus stood up, grabbed the boy by the upper arm and pulled him back, to be sure the boy stayed well clear of the spells he was about to cast and shield the boy from the Grendlings, should the spells not work. As he stood, he also reached for his wand and prepared to cast his spells.

Severus' movement was assessed by the Grendlings just as quickly as he'd worked through his own options. As the pack collected its energy to pounce on the two humans so tantalizingly close, the ground beneath the Grendlings started to move.

Two or three Grendlings simply disappeared where they stood. It looked like large black shadows had arisen from the ground and swallowed them whole. Those shadows were taking form now. The ground was roiling with large black snake-like bodies with wide mouths rimmed with razor-sharp teeth. The mouths were snapping at the Grendlings, and those too slow to react were caught and summarily swallowed; the other Grendlings scampered away in terror.

The sudden motion at the north end of the field had attracted the attention of the Gennerd and his men, but they had no sooner drawn their weapons and raced onto the field, prepared to attack the Grendlings, than the Grendlings were gone, replaced by Black Wyrms. The warriors knew that their weapons were no match for the Wyrms, but they were committed to protecting Severus and the boy. As the warriors were running across the field, swords drawn, a voice was heard over the din of the yelling warriors. "Stop. No one is to attack the Black Wyrms."

All heads turned to Harry, now running across the field to join Severus and the boy, as he cancelled the Sonorous spell he'd just placed on himself. He'd looked up from a conversation with Ullen just in time to see the Grendlings appear and then disappear into the maws of Black Wryms. His initial terror that something would happen to Severus and the boy out there with him was only starting to ebb when he realized that Gennerd's warriors were planning to attack the Wyrms, and he wanted to avert an attack on potential allies.

The Black Wyrms had apparently completed their mission, for as soon as the Grendlings were dispatched, the roiling and movement stopped and they assembled in an orderly half-circle line, with one of their number in the center. As Harry approached, the Wyrm in the center tested the air with its tongue, and then spoke.

"Young King, we welcome you again to the Winter Lands and to our home. We recognized your magical signature, and the signature of one who fought with you several months ago. The Beasts of the Dark Forest were menacing him and a young one from this nest. We did not wish harm to come to them."

The young boy's mouth fell open when he heard Harry speak in Parseltongue. "I thank you, Dragons, for saving my bondmate and the young boy."

There was a reaction to the reference to Severus as Harry's bondmate, as several of the Wyrms began nodding at each other.

"We are helping this nest reestablish their farms, now that the Shadows are gone and they can venture outside of their nests. Will this activity interfere with one of your nests?"

The leader spoke for the group. "We have many nests in this mountain, and none are bothered by the nests in this area beside the mountain."

"Are there Beasts from the Dark Forest all over this area?" Harry wanted to know. How dangerous was it for these Vikings to continue to maintain farmland here?

"They are everywhere in the Winter Lands, Young King. We usually stay on our mountain so we do not see them often. They never bother us, but they prey on every other creature here."

The Black Wyrm could feel the distress in Harry's magic when he understood the magnitude of the damage that the Beasts from the Dark Forest caused in the Winter Lands. Remembering the fearlessness with which the young King had led these warriors and others from his world to restore the capstone and seal the well from which the Shadows had come, he made a decision. "I cannot promise that there will always be a Dragon in this part of the Dark Forest, but I will instruct all Dragons to attack any Beast it finds too near to your nests."

The Wyrm was rewarded for his offer by gratitude now suffusing Harry's magic. Harry bowed formally as he expressed his thanks. The Wyrm led his group in bowing in unison before they turned and slithered just a short distance before disappearing into the forest floor.

Everyone had been standing still, awe tinged liberally with fear watching as the small dark-haired man stood before the looming Wyrms and apparently engaged in a conversation with them. When the Wyrms took their leave, it was as if a spell had broken, and everyone moved and spoke at once.

Severus was the first to reach Harry, who was standing just a step or two ahead of him. He wanted to assure himself that Harry was unharmed, first and foremost. For his part, Harry was equally concerned that no harm had come to Severus from this encounter. They broke from an initial hug to hold the other at arms length to check that all was well, and at the very moment that each took in a breath to begin scolding the other for the foolishness of putting himself in such a dangerous situation, Gennerd and his men joined them, followed moments later by Neville and Ullen. The words of protest and complaint on their lips were never spoken, although each made a mental note to broach this subject privately later.

Harry allowed himself to be surrounded by Gennerd's men, and spoke when they were comfortable that he was protected.

"The Black Wyrms bear you no ill will, Ullen. They recognized Severus' magical signature from the last time he was in the Winter Lands, and took action to protect him and the young man here from the Grendlings. They can't promise that they'll be in the forest all the time, but the elder Wyrm said he'd instruct the Dragons to attack any Grendling it finds menacing your farm."

Gennerd was cautious. "Those beasts are smart. Especially if they are driven back by magic, they tend to stay away from the place for several days. I doubt that they'll be back here for quite a while now, and if they are attacked here by Wyrms again, even just once or twice, they might abandon this part of the forest entirely."

"I don't know how far from their mountain the Black Wyrms typically travel, but their leader said that his Dragons would attack any Grendling it found menacing any human from the Winter Lands, if they came upon this," Harry volunteered. He was concerned that others might feel that Ullen had just been given an advantage at their expense, driving more Grendlings into the forest near other farms. The last thing he wanted to do was to create disharmony or mistrust among the warriors. His comment did seem to address an unspoken concern, for a certain hardness left Gennerd's features as he considered that.

Amid backslapping that hid enormous relief that serious danger had passed, Gennerd and Ullen began the process of shepherding the crowd of warriors, children and the others who had remained outside the compound gates after the planting was done back to the compound for lunch. Severus lingered for a minute, sidling over to Neville.

"Longbottom, do you think it would be possible to take one of those magical forsythia with us back to Hogwarts?"

X X X X X X X X X X

Back at Hogwarts, Petunia Dursley sat with Amaranth Savoy and her children at the lunch table. She'd finished her chores in the greenhouses, harvesting more of those blasted leaves for whatever use these people made of them. She was faced with a long afternoon, no television, no movie theaters, no telephone, no one to call even if she had a telephone. She was feeling glum and sorry for herself. While Amaranth's perpetually sunny disposition grated on her at times, the children were well-behaved and at least Amaranth made room for her at the table. It made her feel welcome in a small way.

As Petunia sullenly made her way through lunch, stabbing at the food with her scramasax, the table was invaded by that very pregnant, very red-headed woman Petunia had seen around the castle.

"Amaranth, my dear! Lovely to see you! It's been too long! Poppy told me that you were staying here with the children – oh, and aren't they adorable – and I've been hoping I'd catch up with you at some point." Amaranth stood to hug her friend and help her onto the bench to join them.

Before Amaranth could introduce her friend to Petunia, the woman was off again. "It's so exciting! I just got copies of the cards that will be going into the Chocolate Frog boxes." Judging from Amaranth's reaction, this was apparently a big deal, although Petunia had no idea what Chocolate Frog boxes were. The woman reached into a pocket of the multi-colored sweater that stretched around her belly and fished out a handful of cards that she spread on the table in front of her. Amaranth inspected them one by one, admiring the inevitably red-headed witch or wizard who appeared on each, and reading aloud the entry on the back of the card. While the entries varied, each contained a reference to the fact that the witch or wizard stood beside Harry Potter at some event. Petunia stifled any reaction to that name.

"You remember Charlie – he was just a year or two behind you here. He's made quite a career taming dragons in Romania." Petunia's head popped up at that – dragons? The red-head dug through the cards to find the one blond in the bunch. "This is Draco Malfoy, his mate." There was a time Petunia would have offered a very nasty observation about that, but somehow, it wasn't in her.

The red-head went through the stack, naming each of an apparently very large brood, fussing about their picture and giving an overview of what they were doing now, still at Hogwarts or otherwise, as Amaranth kept reading them. Mostly boys, although there was one girl in there about whom the woman was obviously very proud, and a brown-haired girl who seemed quite special to her, as well.

With misty eyes, the woman told her story. "They all stood with Harry Potter against the Elder Demon on the Quidditch Pitch, you know. Shoulder to shoulder with the boy. I was terrified, when I heard, of course, but bursting with pride. Harry and my youngest boy, Ron, have been friends since their first day here. We're all very fond of him."

The red-head suddenly seemed to take notice of Petunia, who'd been peeking at the cards, fascinated by the fact that they moved. She'd gotten used to the paintings and all, but had not had much exposure yet to wizard photography. Amaranth took this as her cue to do the introductions.

"Molly Weasley, I'd like you to meet Petunia Dursley, an aunt of a Hogwarts student who just learned that she has magic." As that introduction was made, one of Amaranth's children screamed his dissatisfaction with the cookie he'd been eating, and Petunia's surname was lost in the din. Molly smiled distractedly at the person she now only knew as "Petunia" and commented "The way you use the dagger, I'm shocked that you're new to magic! Why, I have a cousin who is rather fond of the old ways, likes to eat with a dagger, been doing it for years, and I swear, someone has to heal her mouth at least once a week from the nicks and cuts she gives herself." Petunia smiled thinly back at her.

Amaranth doggedly moved the conversation along. "So, Molly, when is the new addition going to arrive?"

"Oh, heavens, my mediwitch says the little one will be here in October, but this one's the eighth and the other seven all came early, so Poppy and I are not ruling out September, or maybe even late August." Petunia swallowed hard at that – she'd found it enormously draining and unpleasant to have to contend with two children (of course, one being that Potter brat, her situation was different) and could not imagine life with a family of seven of them.

Molly stood to leave, and Amaranth stood, too, to assist her off the bench. "I forgot how awkward this stage of pregnancy can be. Oh, well, it doesn't last long, and you get a wonderful little baby for the effort, so it's worth it. Amaranth, lovely to see you, and Petunia, nice to make your acquaintance." She waddled off.

Amaranth realized too late that Molly had left her Chocolate Frog cards behind. She commented to Petunia, "I'll bring these back to her later. She's staying on here at Hogwarts because all her children are either here or out on their own, and her husband works at the Ministry. This isn't a good time for her to be on her own too much."

Rather delicately, Petunia asked a question that had been on her mind since the woman sat down. "Isn't she a bit old to be having another child?" Amaranth laughed at the question, but not unkindly.

"In the wizarding world, women can easily remain fertile into their sixties or seventies, and you hear every once in a while about a witch having a child at eighty. Molly is still a rather young woman here. Wizards have longer life-spans than muggles, so it's not surprising that they can bear children for years longer."

Petunia shook her head at that news, and idly went back through the stack of cards whose subjects were moving and waving. She stopped for just a second at the picture of Harry Potter before moving on to the next in the pile.

X X X X X X X X X X

The sun was starting to dip below the trees in the forest outside the castle when Petunia finally got up her courage to pay a visit to the Infirmary. Her arrival there had been a very unpleasant event, and the time she spent there after fainting at the sight of a house elf was also a bad episode. However, she realized as she spoke to those two women at lunch that she'd not been here to see her own family since they arrived.

She avoided that fussy little woman in the starched white hat, and found a nurse who directed her to a large room where there were many beds placed side by side, with men, women and children all sleeping peacefully and soundly. Unlike the hospitals with which she was familiar, there were no machines blinking and beeping, just silence, broken now and then with a snore. There were no chairs for visitors, either, just long rows of beds.

Petunia walked along until she found Vernon and Dudley, two patients significantly broader than the others, snoring a bit more loudly than the others as well, as they slept side-by-side. She felt a flicker of jealously, that they were sleeping through this nightmare and not aware of where they were and how horrible this place was. But she also felt a flicker of some other emotion. They were missing out on something that was actually rather interesting, and at times, she'd felt sorry that they were not around so she could share experiences and observations with them. Especially Vernon. He could be counted upon to snort disapprovingly at anything strange or different, and there was no shortage of such things here. She smiled as she thought of all the things she'd have to tell him when he awoke.

At times, she felt she was losing some of her certainty about how awful these people were, and how wrong the world was to regard that awful Potter as its King. When people were nice or kind to her, or took care to include her, she felt herself wavering.

It would be good to have her Vernon back, to reinforce the world view she'd harbored for so long, to give her a firmer grounding in the reality of which she really was so sure.


	19. Ch 96 At Odds

Chapter 96 – At Odds

All week, Pharaoh Nitrocris had heard stories about Hogsmeade, an she was most anxious to visit it on Saturday with her new friends. She was disappointed that Neville Longbottom had committed to going to the Winter Lands to help the warriors, but excited at the prospect of spending the afternoon in one of the archetypical English wizarding villages. She'd dispatched an owl mid-week to her trusted advisor that she would only be available to meet with him at Hogwarts on Saturday morning.

At the appointed hour, it was not her advisor but her uncle, Prince Aktenat, who stepped through the floo in the Great Hall. After suitably formal greetings, they repaired to one of the ground floor classrooms, transformed by the house elves for the day into drawing rooms for the use of the visitors.

Nitrocris fumed silently. She would have enjoyed the chance to visit with her advisor and get caught up on what has been going on in the Palace. She knew that her uncles were not at all happy with her reliance on the advisor rather than one of them in her absence, tangible evidence of her minimizing their roles and influence. Unfortunately, it still would have been an easy matter of protocol for her uncle to take her advisor's place at this meeting with her. It just meant that this would be an uncomfortable meeting rather than the pleasant visit she'd been anticipating.

She took a seat in one of the armchairs as soon as she entered the room and gestured for her uncle to take the seat opposite her.

"Nitrocris, my brothers and I believe that you should return from this place immediately. Your place is in Egypt, not in England."

Well, that was blunt! The young woman carefully schooled her features into a neutral mask to hide the rage building within her. Very calmly, she answered "Yes, uncle, you and your brothers made that point to me several times before, when I received this invitation from Harry Potter and again when I traveled here a week ago. I do not agree with you. I belong right now at this important conference, where I am learning things that will enable me to protect and defend the magical people of Egypt. My attendance here is not open to discussion or comment, and I will be staying here until the conference concludes next week."

Nitrocris kept any trace of defiance or argumentation out of her voice, but she expressed herself with certainty and finality. The experience of the Calling and this trip had caused her to realize that her uncles had usurped her natural power and place for far too long. She was more committed than ever to sustaining the changes she'd already made, and establishing her own rule on her own terms. She mused to herself that if they were upset with the changes she'd begun making up to the point that she came to England, they would be apoplectic over the changes she'd started planning during her time here at Hogwarts.

For his part, her uncle was not going to be easily discouraged. He and his brothers had bristled for years under the reign of her father. He treated them all like second-rank members of the family, but at least he had been their older brother. They had all secretly rejoiced when he had only managed to sire one heir, and a daughter at that. There was no love lost when Nitrocris' father died young. The brothers moved quickly after his death to surround the young girl and block all others from having access to or influence over her. Few accepted their outward insistence that they were all doting uncles, but there was nothing anyone could do. All that remained now was to get Nitrocris married to one of their sons, and it happened that Aktenat's oldest son, Ramessis, was the right age.

"You waste your time here. This is not an appropriate place for the Queen of Egypt! You belong in the Palace, with your family."

Nitrocris could not help but notice that he was denying her of her rightful title of Pharaoh, no doubt already assuming that she would wed his son and yield her power to rule to her cousin.

"Uncle, I have no time to continue to repeat myself. If you have no business to conduct here, you are to leave."

Her uncle realized that perhaps he'd pushed too hard, so he quickly tried a different tack.

"My dear niece, we simply look forward to having you back with your loving family. Ramessis, in particular, misses you so. He is very anxious for the day that you and he marry."

"Uncle, once again, I must repeat myself. I will not marry Ramessis. Now or ever. I will wed the person of my choosing, at the time that I deem right for me. I grow very concerned that your persistence in continuing to raise issues on which I have already given you my considered and final answer is not a symptom of poor memory on your part, but of something more sinister – a refusal on your part to accept the decision of the rightful Pharaoh of Egypt. The consequences of such a traitorous course of action would be severe, indeed."

She stood regally as soon as she'd finished speaking. "Please remind your brothers of the importance to their continued standing as members of the Royal family that they remember the decisions that I have communicated to them. I will not react kindly to constant challenges to my decisions. Good day to you."

She strode from the room. A house elf immediately popped into view to escort this apparently-no-longer-welcome guest back to the floo by which he had arrived.

X X X X X X X X X X

In Hogsmeade that afternoon, Hermione and Ron joined a large and boisterous table full of their fellow Gryffindors and one Egyptian Pharaoh at the Three Broomsticks. Hermione looked upset, and Ron looked sheepish as he tried to calm her down.

She'd been hoping for some time alone with Ron today, but he'd spent the morning flying about the Quidditch pitch. The best she had managed was to lag behind the others on the walk into town, so they were alone for not much more than half an hour. Every effort she made to engage him in a serious conversation was rebuffed. Every suggestion that they might spend some time alone either later that day or tomorrow was dodged. She finally exploded.

"What is it, Ron? Have I misread the situation? I thought we were special to each other, but you are pushing me away!"

"No, Mione! Nothing's wrong! Don't be so sensitive. I like to spend time with you, you know that. It's just . . ." He shrugged. "I think maybe we were moving too fast, or something like that. I don't know."

He did look pained by the situation, she had to give him that. He'd never been one to deal well with his feelings, there was that, too. She cursed the hormones that had driven her to be a bit forward with Ron the last time she was able to lure him to the privacy of the greenhouses at night. She never imagined she'd scare the poor boy into an extended period of celibacy.

Or was it something else, quite the opposite?

"If you found someone else, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"

That took Ron by surprise. "Someone else? Of course not, Hermione! How could you even think that?"

Hermione did not know what to think right then. She'd manage to fall for the one prudish member of the Weasley family (she'd even seen uptight Percy cuddling Penelope Clearwater when they were at school), and it seemed she just had to wait for him to catch on, or get over himself, or whatever. This was horrible.

Once they settled at the table in the Three Broomsticks and ordered their butterbeers, they were swept up in the noisy conversation and bustle around the table. Hermione noticed that, with Neville not in the group, there was some shuffling among the others to sit next to Nitrocris and catch her eye. The flirting was shameless. Nitrocris was doing her best to ignore the boys, in favor of learning more about Hogsmeade, Hogwarts and Harry Potter, but it was not easy to carry on a conversation over all the bawdy banter. It did not make Hermione feel better that Ron was comfortable joining in all that, either.

After an hour or so, a still out-of-sorts Hermione excused herself and went to the restroom, planning to sneak out a side door and head back to Hogwarts. She was surprised that she was joined in the restroom by Nitrocris.

"Are you planning on heading back to Hogwarts now, Hermione? Might I join you for the walk? I'm getting a bit of a headache from the noise back there," she asked. Hermione was glad for the company and showed the other girl the door that enabled them to leave without walking through the main room.

Nitrocris was very interested in what she might learn from Hermione, who could be trusted to answer her questions directly and not with foul innuendo as most of the boys did.

"Did you know that you would be sorted into Gryffindor when you came to Hogwarts?"

"I'd read about the Houses before I came here, and actually expected to be sorted into Ravenclaw. I was happy to go to Gryffindor, though. I'm not sure that you see the traits of bravery and honor in yourself so clearly, but I knew I was a good student."

"How is it that a Gryffindor like Harry Potter became the bondmate of the Slytherin Head of House? Harry told me that he was almost sorted into Slytherin but asked not to go there, so I don't understand why he chose a Slytherin as his bondmate."

Hermione was one of the few who knew the story of Harry's sorting. He shared that very infrequently, so it told Hermione something of his relationship with Nitrocris that he'd confided this to her. As a result, she was willing to say a bit more than she might otherwise when Harry's private business was involved.

"At the start of the school year, there was a very difficult political situation here in Great Britain, and we learned that Harry was going to be placed in great danger by someone for political gain. We were casting about for a way to avoid this danger, and I thought out loud that as Harry was old enough to be married, there should be some way to avoid the problem. Marriage was the only solution we had on such short notice. Professor Dumbledore has an old magical artifact, the Marriage Stone, and he consulted it. He spoke Harry's name to it, and it identified Professor Snape as Harry's soul mate."

Hermione smiled ruefully as she took a breath before continuing. "Professor Snape had never liked Harry, and that's actually putting it very mildly. It took some strong persuasion by the Headmaster, but he got them married, and that averted the potential catastrophe for Harry. It took quite a while, but they are getting on very well now, I think."

With an almost conspiratorial giggle, Nitrocris added "Two such handsome men!"

It was Hermione's turn to giggle at that. "Harry's like a brother to me. We met on the train here the very first day, and he was my first friend here. Snape, on the other hand . . . Let's just say he's cleaned up very nicely."

The rest of the walk back to the castle passed in discussion of the various boys and men that Nitrocris had encountered during her brief stay, one offering the newcomer's view and the other providing some background. All the while, Nitrocris was mulling over in the back of her mind all that she had learned about the Marriage Stone.

X X X X X X X X X X

Later in the afternoon, Harry, Neville and Severus returned from the Winter Lands bearing a crate that contained one of the magical forsythia that they'd found growing wild near the edges of the forests there. Harry went back to the castle while Neville and Severus brought the crate to the greenhouses. While Neville went to consult Professor Sprout's books to learn what he could about the appropriate habitat for this plant, Severus helped himself to a cup of tea from the pot that was always steaming at the back of the greenhouses.

The little witch was in her office when Neville got there. "Neville, good to see you back, boy! How was the trip to the Winter Lands? Did you get the fields sown?"

"Yes, ma'am. Harry and Professor Snape cleared and tilled the fields with their magic, so the warriors and their families were able to get everything planted very quickly. Professor Snape found an interesting new plant that he asked us to try to grow for him here. I'd never seen one before – it's a magical form of forsythia."

Professor Sprout's jaw went slack and her teacup shattered as it slipped from her fingers.

"Merlin, no, tell me you did not bring a magical forsythia to Hogwarts!"

"It's in the crate by the door back there."

The little woman could move very quickly when circumstances warranted, and she clearly felt this was a time to move as fast as possible. Neville ran after her, curious as to what could possibly be the problem with this plant. They were utterly benign in their natural habitat, which was more than could be said for most of the things he was growing and tending in the greenhouses.

Severus had been strolling along the outside of the greenhouse, and returned to the crate immediately when he heard Pomona Sprout arrive. "Come to see our new find, Pomona?" he asked cordially.

She shot him a murderous glance, which piqued his curiosity. Hufflepuffs, even those who served as Heads of House, never got that angry.

She carefully approached the crate and gently lifted the top to look in, and uttered a soft curse when she saw that there was, indeed, a magical forsythia in there, and the exact species about which she was most concerned.

"What is the matter, Pomona? It's a forsythia – albeit a magical one. Just like the muggle variety grows all over here, the magical ones are all over the Winter Lands."

"Oh, this is a serious problem. Can you run to the floo, Neville, and firecall for the Headmaster and Hagrid to get here right away. We have a potential catastrophe on our hands."

Severus was completely confused. He'd asked Pomona and her greenhouse team to provide space and care for any number of dangerous and even a few poisonous plants, and not a whimper. He could not see why or how a spring-flowering shrub that did not hurt anyone was such a threat.

The Headmaster had flooed to Professor Sprout's office as soon as Neville reached him, and he dispatched a house elf to find Hagrid and get him to the greenhouse right away. The three professors and a confused student stood around the crate inspecting its contents.

"Headmaster, I'm quite sure that neither Neville nor Professor Snape are aware of the danger we have with this plant, but we need to deal with it right away. Gentlemen, magical forsythia do have a little burst of sunlight in their flowers, I'm sure you saw that. You can even crush a flower and release the burst; children love these things." Actually, the Headmaster looked very anxious to see that himself.

"What few know upon seeing them in their natural habitats is that these plants are extremely fragile and cannot be transplanted. Once a plant is established, it cannot be moved. It might last a day or two, at most, in a new spot. When this plant dies, the light in its flowers and stems does not release outward, but collapses inward. The collapse creates little black vortexes, the things muggles are calling black holes. They suck up all the sunlight around them, and kill all vegetation in the area. If we put this in a greenhouse, it would kill everything in the greenhouse when it died. A large plant can create a dead space over an acre; even a little one like this will probably render a good part of a garden or forest an unusable dead zone for decades to come."

Severus was amazed at this, and a little suspicious that such a small plant could cause such harm.

Albus seemed surprised as well. "Can we send it back to the Winter Lands by port key?"

Pomona shook her head. "It will not be put back in the exact place that it was growing, so it will die there, too, and they'll have to deal with the dead zone."

"Hagrid might know of a place that could be used. Perhaps a crag up in the highlands, or a remote part of the moors. I asked a house elf to summon him here, so ask him to place this for us when he arrives." Albus patted Neville's shoulder as he went back to the floo.

Neville looked positively stricken. He had no idea, no idea at all that he was bringing such a dangerous plant back here, and creating such trouble. Pomona saw his distress, and had to admit, this was not his fault. She, too, patted the boy's shoulder in empathy. "You never know, Neville. Better to leave a specimen of an unknown plant in place until you can do the research and return for it later. There, there, lad. We'll get this taken care of."

Severus was starting to feel nagging feelings of guilt, an emotion he did not enjoy. He looked somewhat sheepishly at his colleague. "I will remember that, as well, Professor Sprout," he offered.

She snorted angrily at Severus and did not respond. He was old enough to have known better, and she was not giving him any slack. "Go along, Longbottom. Professor Snape and I will get this addressed with Hagrid when he arrives." Once Neville was out of earshot, she turned on Severus.

"I am very willing to give Longbottom some slack here. But not you, Severus, you should know better. You know that magical plants are seldom what they seem based on casual observation. The dangers can come from all directions – a poisonous leaf or bud, or sap that leaches into soil, or thorns and branches that can entrap passersby, all sorts of things. I realize that where this grows wild, it looks benign. Children love it, and are completely safe playing with it there. But moving it has changed it entirely into a terribly harmful plant."

Severus' great discomfort at being dressed down, and justifiably so, by his colleague was suspended when Hagrid lumbered out of the greenhouse.

"'Ere you are! What 'ave we got there?" He peeked into the crate on the ground and clucked. "Cute little plant – pretty flowers."

"That's our problem, Hagrid. That cute little plant does not survive transplanting, and when it dies, it will suck in all the sunlight around it for several days, so there will be a black spot several yards around day and night where it was planted. All vegetation on the land around it, going a few yards beyond the blackness, will die and the land will not support plant life for several decades. We need to get it moved and planted where that won't be a problem."

Hagrid looked only slightly surprised by the news. With a small sigh, he observed "Ah, i'n't that always the way? The ones that look all peaceful-like cause all sorts of trouble. I know jus' the spot for this little thing, up in Scotland. No one around, no one will see anything. I'll take it on my motorbike."

X X X X X X X X X X

Severus had a most uncomfortable walk back to his rooms, smarting inside from Pomona's words. As much as he hated to admit it, he'd come close to causing a major catastrophe.

Things did not improve when he got to his rooms. If he was expecting solace and sympathy from Harry, he was wrong. He'd not even gotten his cloak off and hung by the door when Harry stalked in from the sitting room and opened fire.

"I cannot believe that you would put yourself in harm's way like that, Severus! Wandering off right near a Winter Lands forest, just to look at the flowers? What on earth were you thinking? You were in a forest up there before – you know how dangerous it can be!"

Severus didn't see this in quite the same way. "Excuse me? Who wandered over for a chat with a nest of Black Wyrms? Right up next to a half-dozen of the creatures, who'd just devoured three or four eight-foot tall Grendlings, whole, in one gulp?"

Harry's train of though was broken by that, and his brow creased has he processed what Severus had said. "Huh? I was never in any danger. Black Wyrms are allies, for Merlin's sake! They led me home when I got lost in the ley lines. They felt our presence, Severus – they remembered our magical signatures from the battle at the Well of Despair. They told me that they interceded when they realized that the Grendlings were threatening you and a Winter Lands child. It was the Grendlings who were the threat! And there you sat, admiring flowers with that little boy as a pack of Grendlings lined up in the forest to pounce on you."

Severus had not seen Harry get so riled up in quite a while. The boy looked really angry. And Severus himself started to feel the biting weight of a really, really bad day. He hadn't done anything right all afternoon. Thinking that he went along to protect Harry, he thoughtlessly placed himself in a position where Harry's Gryffindorish tendencies came to the fore, treating him to the indelible image of his bondmate standing alone right in front of those enormous, blood-thirsty Wyrms. He'd be having nightmares for months.

And then he made shockingly wrong assumptions about a plant! He was still stunned that a harmless-looking shrub that grew wild and was actually child-friendly in its native habitat could cause such devastation to Hogwarts! He was just relieved that Hagrid knew of a place where a week or so of blackness and then a dead zone that lasted for decades would not be a problem.

Severus could not come up with one of his usual scathing comebacks to Harry. He settled for his best glare, and headed for his store of potions. He needed the strongest pain relieving potion he had for the headache blossoming in his head. If he was up to having a bite for supper, he'd have something brought to him here later.

He'd always cautioned Albus about him being a bad match for Harry, notwithstanding the opinion of the Marriage Stone. His fumbles up to that point had all be in the area of making Harry happy. Now that things were generally improving in the quality of his relationship with the young man, he goes and does something that could prove physically dangerous to him. Maybe he didn't need pain potion as much as he did a bottle of firewhiskey!

Harry recognized the signs of one of Severus' headaches. He also realized that he'd actually gotten the last word in what he thought was an argument, although that did seem to veer off course at the end. He opted not to gloat over his apparent victory, but quietly slipped out of the room and headed off to the Great Hall for supper.

X X X X X X X X X X

Amelia Bones had decided that it was time for her to solidify her position as acting Minister of Magic by hosting a dinner party for the members of the Wizengamot. Her staff had persuaded her to host it in one of the Ministry reception rooms rather than her admittedly-modest home. Of course, there were no house elves in the Ministry building – since no wizard resided in the Ministry itself, house elves did not regard it as a "house" – but her own two house elves had reached out to their network across Great Britain for help. A sumptuous dinner was assembled from contributions from the kitchens of great houses as far away as northern Scotland.

As the group stood to leave the table, Minister Bones decided that her party had been a great success. Her colleagues – some friends of long standing, some new friends, some former enemies – had all been unfailingly polite and decorous. She smiled to herself: it was amazing how easy it could be to declare success if you set your standards low enough.

There had been some concern about her guest list. She was delighted to invite Remus Lupin, who was proving himself to be a thoughtful and practical leader, but had her reservations about his mate, Sirius Black. Fortunately, Remus kept Sirius in check. She was not really sure what to do about Lord Aventine. He accepted her invitation and a place was duly set for him at the table, but frankly, well, she could not bring herself to even think about the dining habits of vampires. He'd sat through the dinner, though, playing with a glass of wine and simply ignoring the plates of food set before him until they were cleared with all the others.

Surprisingly, Albus Dumbledore agreed to attend; he seldom joined any functions at the Ministry.

Minister Bones had fully expected Lucius Malfoy to attend alone, although of course, the invitation was extended to both Lord and Lady Malfoy. This was not the sort of event at which one expected Narcissa to appear. To Amelia's great surprise, Narcissa did indeed arrive on the arm of her husband. She was gorgeously dressed in robes of the most current and flattering style, and was actually quite cordial to all.

Of course, that's what went on at the table.

"Please, Narcissa, it is very important to us, politically, that we both attend this dinner," Lucius had pleaded when he received the invitation. "This is the first event that Amelia Bones is hosting in her capacity as Minister, and it is a prime opportunity to chat up some initiatives I am backing and gathering support. You can get so much more accomplished in a social setting like this, and I want the matters I'm backing to pass easily. I need to establish a tone right off; that will help with everything else I have to do."

Narcissa had moved back to Malfoy Manor once the repairs and renovations had been finished, enticed by Lucius' offer of a trip to Paris to fill her newly-expanded wardrobe with a selection of robes and dresses from the finest wizarding ateliers in the city. An official dinner with Minister Bones had not been part of that discussion, and Lucius was not entirely sure that Narcissa's good will would carry so far as to cover attending such an event.

"These are disgusting people, Lucius! It was bad enough that I had to endure that awful dinner with the Weasleys after Draco married into that band of hooligans. They were all at least wizards! There will be a VAMPIRE at this dinner, Lucius – I shudder to think how that will work. And a werewolf! And if Diana Snape-Brand attends with her Winter Lands husband, a FARMER!"

Lucius duly went with Narcissa to Paris, where several trunks full of the latest (and the most expensive) robes and dresses were purchased and dispatched back to the Manor. He took advantage of her desire to visit with some friends while she was there to formulate a back-up plan, should he not be able to persuade his wife to join him at the dinner based on logic alone.

He visited the premier jeweler in the nicest wizarding part of the city, the 23rd Arrondissement, and found an amazingly beautiful opal, one of Narcissa's favorite stones. He had the plum-sized bauble set in a necklace of diamonds and emeralds. He either had a card to play to get her to this dinner, or he had a birthday gift in hand a few months early.

Narcissa never yielded on the matter of attending this dinner party as the date drew closer; if anything, she grew more insistent that there was no reason for her to attend, and that the gathering held no interest for her. The more she resisted, the more Lucius convinced himself that this dinner was going to be significant to his political and financial future, and that somehow it would matter that Narcissa accompanied him. Finally, at breakfast on the Saturday of the dinner, he played his final card and offered up the beautiful new necklace for her to show off at dinner that evening.

Narcissa knew all about the necklace, of course. A friend of hers had seen Lucius entering the jewelers and passed the information along to her. She'd looked for and found the box the day they returned from Paris. If Lucius expected her to play the role of a political wife in this new world of theirs, it was going to cost him.

Cursing to himself at the venality of his beautiful but cold-blooded wife, Lucius finally secured her agreement to attend.

X X X X X X X X X X

At Riddle Manor, Lord Voldemort had been gathering his loyal followers to his home. He'd only been able to track down about a fraction of the people who'd taken his Dark Mark before; without the Marks, he could not summon them (or torture them until they responded to the summons). He and his loyal Death Eaters had visited their former associates and brought those who could be persuaded to Riddle Manor to rejoin their Lord. A few came willingly, a few came when their families were threatened, and a few were missing entirely. Others were now on the other side; Voldemort looked forward to dealing with the traitors, like Snape and Malfoy, when the time was right.

As his minions arrived at the Manor, each was required to accept a new Dark Mark. All had gone through that ceremony before, so the mystery and nervousness were no longer part of the experience, but they willingly submitted. What had Voldemort completely perplexed was the fact that the Dark Marks never seemed to last for more than a week, at most. Some were even gone the day after he placed them.

In a rage, he'd gone looking for his old notes and records, but he'd last had them in his possession years before his recent "absence." He wasn't sure where he'd put them for safekeeping or even if he'd taken any care at all to store them safely. He knew then and was sure he would always remember how to place the Dark Mark on a follower's arm to make him or her a Death Eater. He'd been doing it regularly before his absence, and he'd begun doing that as soon as he became whole again.

His concern that he was doing something different now that made the Marks impermanent faded when one of his minions noted that he had accepted the Mark the first time over 20 years ago, and that one disappeared, too. Voldemort pondered that for a bit and finally concluded that had never lost his touch, or made an error, in the process that affixed the Dark Mark, so there must be something else at work here.

Voldemort suspected that he had somehow changed the basic nature of wizards with his sleeping spell. His assessment of the evidence before him caused him to believe that as a result of the sleeping spell, the magic that was used to place the Mark now acted differently, or the body of the Death Eater accepted the magic differently. He wondered if he might be able to revise his process for affixing Dark Marks enough to address this change.

Cursing the fates that created this problem at the most inopportune of times, he had locked himself away in the Riddle Manor library and had spent days theorizing on different approaches to affixing Dark Marks. He'd actually affixed his Dark Mark to several Death Eaters on Friday morning, using his new approach, and was anxious to see if this way produced a more long-lasting Mark. Unfortunately, one recipient of that Mark sought out the Dark Lord the next evening to show his already-unmarked forearm. He was immediately subjected to an Avada Kedavra for his trouble, as the Dark Lord railed at the world for creating this problem.

X X X X X X X X X X

Molly Weasley was waddling along toward the Great Hall for Saturday night supper, accompanied by her husband, Arthur. Her feet were swollen, her back ached, and she was tired, so Arthur walked slowly, allowing her to lean on him for support.

As they neared the entrance to the Hall, Molly spotted her new acquaintance, Petunia, who was just entering the Hall with a group from the Hufflepuff dormitories, and called out for her to wait.

Molly did her best to hurry up to get to Petunia, intending to introduce her to Arthur, but when she reached the tall, thin woman, she realized that she'd not caught her surname.

"My dear, nice to see you again. I wanted to introduce you to my husband, Arthur Weasley. Arthur, this is Petunia, and dear, I did not catch your last name when we were introduced."

Not understanding the assessing look that Arthur was giving her, she smiled and replied "It's Dursley, Petunia Dursley."

Arthur was thinking that he'd seen her before, but he had no idea where. Once he heard that surname, though, he knew. He'd gone to pick Harry up at the home of his aunt and uncle back in Harry's fourth year, and he'd met this woman then. She was Harry's aunt!

Molly had never met Harry's family, but the name Dursley rang a bell. It took a few seconds for everything to fall into place, but by then, Arthur had drawn back his fist and punched the woman square in the jaw, sending her sprawling on the stone floor.

Arthur took his wife's arm and with much dignity, guided her around Petunia and into the Hall. Molly looked at her husband with pride and admiration as they found their seats for supper.


	20. Ch 97 Making Amends

Chapter 97 – Making Amends

Neville was quite the star at dinner on Saturday night.

His story of the Black Wyrms arriving to attack a pack of Grendlings, thus saving Professor Snape and a young Winter Lands boy, caught everyone's attention, not just that of a certain Egyptian Pharaoh. Even Hermione, who seldom got caught up in these dramatic tales of derring-do the way the others did, was interested. This gave her another witness to a sighting of Black Wyrms. Neville's description was exactly the same as the one she'd gotten from Harry and Sirius Black. She was hoping that Neville might have some details that the other two might have missed, given that they had been engaged in a battle at the time of the first sighting of these creatures. She'd be asking Neville to study the picture that she'd found of these supposedly mythical creatures in that old book as soon as the group got back to the Common Room.

Harry was called upon to provide as many details as he could recall from his conversation with the Black Wyrms, as well. The group hung on his every word. He described spotting Grendlings congregating at the edge of the forest that suddenly found themselves in the midst of a nest of Black Wyrms appearing from beneath their feet, swallowing some Grendlings whole and scattering the others. He had to describe the Grendlings, and the Wyrms. Then he told of his sprint across the field to prevent an attack on the Wyrms, and finally, the details of his conversation with the Wyrm leader. "And all of that was over a pretty little plant!" he concluded. "Severus and this little boy from the compound were out there at the edge of the field, crouched down admiring this little forsythia!"

Hermione thought back to all the other times that something this dramatic had happened. It was rare that Harry did not end up in the Infirmary in the aftermath of something like this, so usually the group had to discuss the event without the benefit of Harry's own take on it. It was also rare that he was so willing to discuss his role in something like this, even after the passage of time. She attributed his enthusiastic participation this time to the fact that this escapade had a happy ending, with no one killed or even injured. Things seldom went so well for poor Harry.

Neville added the final chapter to the day's adventure, one that even Harry had not heard yet. "It turned out that the pretty little plant we brought back to Hogwarts was extremely dangerous. Hagrid had to take it to a remote location where it won't be a problem, but we nearly caused a disaster at Hogwarts."

Harry looked up sharply. Everyone wanted to hear about this averted disaster. Dramatic intervention to avoid disaster always spoke to the heart of every Gryffindor, but if it also served to cast Professor Snape in a bad light, well, that was truly a bonus! Harry had a more personal reason. Severus had been upset about this, he was sure of it. This was probably the only way he was going to get all the details about it.

Neville described the plant and its light-containing flowers, and how strongly Professor Sprout reacted when she saw it in its crate by the greenhouse door. There were hoots of approval as Neville told of Hagrid's arrival to transport the plant to a place where its inevitable demise and resulting dead zone would not be a problem in the decades to come.

Suddently, his conversation with Severus just before he left for dinner took on a different dimension for Harry. While he remained steadfast in his belief that Severus absolutely should have been more careful up in the Winter Lands, he regretted rounding on the man so. He thought he was getting to know Severus pretty well by now. He'd worked out his bondmate's tremendous sense of honor a long time ago. Watching him work and brew had shown Harry his intellect, which was not just a burning desire to understand things completely and see risks and opportunities the eluded others, but included a large measure of pride in his work product. Finally, he'd always protected Harry and Hogwarts, even to the point of putting himself in great personal danger to do so. This incident had to have smarted; he'd messed up pretty much across the board today, and if Professor Sprout said anything remotely harsh to him after she dismissed Neville (as Neville suspected she did), he was probably quite upset when he'd gotten back to their rooms before. And then Harry had to berate him for inspecting the plant to begin with!

His friends stayed at the dinner table quite a while after the meal, with all this news to share. Harry had been checking as the meal progressed for Severus' arrival in his seat at the Head Table, but the seat remained empty. When the group finally stood to go back to their Common Room, Harry bid them good night rather than join them.

Harry was concerned about Severus, and felt guilty about his role in making the man feel as badly as he suspected he did. He hurried down to the dungeons, wanting to get there quickly while simultaneously dreading what he'd have to say once he got there.

All was quiet when Harry entered their quarters, after a brief "hello" to Salazar and his snake in the portrait. The sitting room was unoccupied, so Harry checked the lab, but it was empty, as was the library and the small kitchen. Carefully, Harry opened the door to the bedroom, to find Severus already in bed, snoring softly, an empty vial of Dreamless Sleep on the nightstand next to him.

Harry climbed onto the bed next to Severus, only kicking his shoes off before kneeling next to the sleeping man. Harry understood why Severus would choose the Dreamless Sleep. He'd had many days go as bad as this one had for Severus. Of course, most of those bad days had happened to Harry because of the actions of his cousin, Dudley, but the outcome was still the same. Despite best intentions to do well, or at least with every intention of not doing anything wrong, it all went awry. He'd felt the bitter frustration of a day like this. Add in the guilt and embarrassment that he suspected Severus was probably feeling because of his own culpability, and he knew Severus was hurting.

He also knew from personal experience that Severus was not going to awaken now with a full bottle of Dreamless Sleep potion in his presumably-empty stomach, but he did want to offer some comfort to his bondmate. As he gently brushed a stray strand of hair off of Severus' face, it occurred to him that he might be able to offer some comfort to Severus' magic, even if the man himself was sound asleep.

He pushed on Severus' shoulder until the man rolled onto his stomach, at which time he lowered the blanket to his waist and moved to straddle his hips, so he'd have access to Severus shoulders and back, and he began to give Severus a massage. There was a great deal of tension in his shoulders, and Harry patiently worked on the knots until the muscles relaxed, and then he slowly worked his way down Severus' broad back.

Once he felt that he'd eased the tension in Severus' back, Harry pressed his palms flat against his back right beneath his shoulder blades. He closed his eyes, and sat very still for a few minutes. First, he concentrated on experiencing just the sense of touch, and then the sense of Severus' magic. He finally allowed his own magic to reach out to Severus' magic. At first, there was just a gentle contact. Harry soon realized that the agitation he'd found in Severus' body was a reflection of an equal level of agitation in his magic. He began a slow process of touching, stroking, surrounding and caressing Severus' magic with his own. To his surprise, Harry discovered that his process was as relaxing to him as it apparently was to Severus, whose breathing had even become deeper and slower.

The last thing Harry wanted to do was to break this contact. He wriggled out of his clothes, and climbed under the covers with Severus, turning the man over now to sleep on his side. He spooned in behind Severus with his arms around his middle and his palms pressed flat against Severus' chest. After a second to get them both settled into this new position, Harry once again pushed his magic into Severus, and in just moments, he joined his bondmate in sleep. Their magics continued to intertwine and caress while they slept.

X X X X X X X X X X

Things were not so peaceful in the house at Grimmauld Place that evening. As soon as they arrived home from Minister Bones' dinner party, Sirius had angry words for Remus.

"What on earth did you think you were doing, spending all that time with the Malfoys, Remus? Do I need to remind you who was behind the efforts to have you subjected to a Euthanasia Order not all that long ago? Did you forget that little detail already?" he asked, pacing around in the parlor, his long curls swirling around him as he turned with more energy than the process really needed.

Showing only gentle amusement in his amber eyes, Remus said "Calm down, Sirius. Lucius is a member of the Wizengamot, as am I, and I'm sure you recall that Harry charged Lucius with becoming an agent of change for the rights of vampires and werewolves. I know we all doubted what was going on when Harry said that. But I think Lucius has taken that charge very seriously. He has had a team of his own researchers . . . "

"Honestly, do you think for one minute that you can trust him? Or his private researchers? For Merlin's sake, man, Harry is a boy and a bit of an idealist. His instincts are not as refined as they no doubt will be one day. You cannot possibly trust Lucius Malfoy or anyone on his payroll."

Still calm, Remus continued. "And yet I do. They've done excellent work. Lucius is now beginning to develop legislative proposals to present to the Wizengamot. He wants to be sure that he speaks to each of us in advance of presenting the proposals, so we can identify any concerns or issues they may have missed, and to be sure we're comfortable with the way he covered things. He's going to completely restore the rights of vampires and werewolves. It was truly an ambitious undertaking."

"And you really think he's not putting some legal Trojan horse in there, some loophole to completely nullify the whole thing, maybe even make things worse? That's what a Malfoy would do, and you know it!"

The wolf had now gone to intercept his pacing bondmate and hold him still for a minute. Remus had a soft smile on his lips as he put his arms around Sirius' shoulders to hold him in place.

"That's exactly what the old Lucius Malfoy would have done. You'll get no argument from me there. But as Lord Aventine mentioned to me after we spoke to Lucius, Lucius has definitely been set on a new path. He's doing exactly what Harry asked him to do. This is not the old Lucius Malfoy. I suspect that even Narcissa is a bit taken aback by this new Lucius. She seemed surprised by the passion with which he was speaking on some of the issues; he would have taken the exact opposite position, equally passionately, not that long ago."

Remus' refusal to get agitated over all this finally had the desired influence over Sirius, who gradually calmed himself, leaning his head against Remus' shoulder while the other man gently played with his hair. "I'm not sure I can get used to all these changes, Remus."

"Don't be ridiculous. One of the best changes is that you're now a free man, no more threat of Azkaban." That observation was accompanied by a warm hug. "Harry's healthy and he avoided any entanglement with Fudge; I suspect he's even becoming quite happy with Severus." That observation got a grunt out of Sirius. "We still have enemies, of course, but our true enemies are not hidden any longer. They've played their cards and identified themselves. And some of our former enemies are our allies now. Really – do you think Voldemort would take Lucius back at this point? Or that Lucius would even want to go?"

Sirius remained silent for a few moments, so Remus continued, trying a slightly different approach. "And you are not only a free man now, you're becoming a respectable one, too! A member of the International Confederation of Sorcerers, who'd've ever imagined that? And maybe you'll parlay that into a seat on the Wizengamot!"

Finally, Remus placed his hands on Sirius' shoulders and held him at arms length. "And if all that isn't enough, remember, new Chocolate Frog cards – and you're in the Hero category this time!"

At last, a small smile flickered across Sirius' face. Remus put his arm around Sirius' waist and gently guided him from the parlor toward the stairs. "I'm getting a bit overheated in all these clothes; how about you?"

As they climbed the stairs to their bedroom, Sirius now had a large grin on his face. He was already undoing the buttons on his jacket and thinking how very lucky he was to have Remus.

X X X X X X X X X X

The crowd had finally thinned out in the Gryffindor Common Room. Upper years had disappeared by pairs off to the greenhouses or the shores of the lake, or any of the other quiet and relatively private spots scattered in and around the castle. Some of the younger students had already gone to bed, and a few were gathered around tables playing Exploding Snaps.

Hermione had gotten the old book from her room, and had placed it open to the picture of a Black Wyrm on the low table in front of one of the sofas, where a small group was still going over the events of the day. She was sitting on the floor, as were a few others, everyone craning their necks for a glimpse of the illustration in the book.

"That's exactly what Black Wyrms look like, Mione." Neville gestured to one of the Wyrms pictured in the book that appeared to be coiled around itself at the base with its huge head held high. "When they were done with the Grendlings, they sort of assembled in a semi-circle and stood, or sat, just like that one. And they are enormous. This picture really does not capture just how big they are."

Dean was close enough to the book to see the print. "Hey, this book says this is a mythical creature, Neville."

"No, I definitely saw it. They're real. Big enough to swallow a seven- or eight-foot tall Grendling in one go, too."

Nitrocris shuddered as she studied the picture. It was an old illustration, and it did not move, but even so, it captured a very nasty looking creature.

Eventually, Ron managed to sidle over to sit next to Hermione, a sheepish smile on his face. When the conversation had moved along to things other than her book, he quietly asked her if she'd go for a walk with him down by the lake. To relief that was evident on his face, she nodded her acceptance of his invitation, and moments later they joined the exodus from the Common Room. No one seemed to pay their departure any mind, although Nitrocris had overheard their whispered words.

The couple walked in companionable silence along the corridors to the exit towards the lake, and then down the path to the shore. Ron decided to press his luck once they were out of the castle. The lanky redhead tentatively put an arm around Hermione, almost expecting to feel her elbow in his ribs as he did so. For her part, Hermione was a bit puzzled by Ron's sudden interest in her again, but also curious enough to play along to find out what was going on. She did have feelings for the boy, strong ones. If he was going to share some insight into why their relationship was not progressing as she had hoped, she was quite willing to hear him out. She wasn't quite willing to return the favor though, so her arm did not move to go around his waist as she might have done before.

Once they reached the path that wove around the rocks and trees that lined the shore of the lake, he began looking for a quiet, sheltered area in which the two of them could have a private chat, and found the spot he wanted after a ten minute stroll. He guided Hermione over to a fallen log that served as a bench in a small clearing, and gestured for her to have a seat. She brushed a few stray hairs out of her face as she tentatively perched on the edge of the log. Ron's messy hair was not his concern, but he did wipe his suddenly-sweaty palms several times on his pants leg before joining her on the log.

"Hermione, thanks for coming down here. I was really upset by your comments to me earlier, about your thinking I was seeing someone else. I can't believe that you would think that."

"Well, Ronald, you've been very distant for a couple of weeks now. We had a date that I had hoped would bring us greater intimacy, and instead, it seems you don't want to be anywhere near me anymore. I don't understand what happened. As I thought through different reasons that you might have changed your mind about our relationship so abruptly, a likely possibility seemed to be that you'd taken a fancy to someone else."

Ron blanched at the reference to "relationship" but fortunately, in the moonlight, all that meant was that his freckles stood out a bit more clearly against his skin. Why did girls always have to make things this complicated? He was not a person given to spending time thinking about his "relationships" and for the life of him, couldn't see why it mattered so much to her, but it apparently did. He steeled himself for what he knew he had to say, wishing it wasn't necessary but accepting that he had to do this to make things right.

"Yeah, Hermione, about that date."

She visibly tensed at that, but said nothing. For his part, he took a deep breath to steady his voice before continuing.

"I appreciate the trouble that you went to, to set that up. It was brilliant, really. But that isn't what I want with you, groping about on the ground, trying to keep quiet because other people are out there by the greenhouses, too. I want to be able to enjoy you, without worrying about getting grass stains on our underwear, or worrying that someone will see or hear us. We need a special, private place to respect what we have."

He could not believe he'd gotten that out. He remembered how disappointed she'd looked that night when they left, and had felt guilty about causing her distress. But he'd felt dirty out there in the grass, and felt certain that the experience would only cheapen whatever it was between him and Hermione. He didn't want to do that ever again.

For her part, Hermione realized that she'd forgotten to breathe, and needed a few breaths to digest what Ron had just told her, and she kept her brown eyes closed. In his own way, he'd confirmed more than she'd even allowed herself to dream – there was something, something special between them. Groping around in the shelter of the greenhouse walls certainly seemed like a fun way to spend an evening, but Ron's reasons for not wanting to do that with her completely trumped her notion of taking her relationship with him to the next level. It might be frustrating for now (actually, it was very frustrating), but the promise of something so much more meaningful in the future – wow!

Just her luck – her attempt at seduction seemed to have scared the boy into celibacy, but she was pretty sure it was temporary. Now she knew she needed to do to get her relationship with Ron to that level, and she'd absolutely be on the lookout for an opportunity for private time with him in a suitable location. If anything, finding the ideal place and time would be a challenge she'd enjoy tackling.

She lifted her eyes to look at Ron, now sitting next to her, his elbows on his knees, as it was his turn to contemplate the grass before them. She got his attention by putting her arm around his shoulders, and pulling him toward her. When he turned his head to look at her, he saw shining brown eyes alit with pleasure, before he was caught up in a kiss.

X X X X X X X X X X

Back in the Gryffindor Common Room, Nitrocris endured the flirtatious attention of the boys for a short while after Ron and Hermione had left, deflecting their comments and gently discouraging them, until she and Neville were the last two sitting on the sofa. He was actually trying to figure out what to say to excuse himself, as it certainly seemed that the Pharaoh was not in the mood for company this evening, when she got his attention by taking his forearm in her hand and squeezing it. "Neville, would you mind going for a walk with me? I'd love to see the lake at night, and I don't want to go alone."

Ever polite, Neville agreed, and they were the next two to slip out of the room. Nitrocris noticed that her departure with Neville did not prompt any of the ribald comments she'd heard directed at others as they left; she smiled to herself at the blindness of some of these English students.

Once they were out of the castle, walking along side-by-side, they picked their way down the same path that Hermione and Ron had taken a short while before. They meandered along the shore of the lake, fortunately in the opposite direction taken by the other two, as Nitrocris looked for a secluded place to sit and talk to Neville. When she found a suitable spot, Nitrocris took Neville by the hand and led him over to a rock large enough for both of them to sit on.

"You have a wonderful relationship with your Grandmother, Neville. Do you live with her when you are not at school?"

Neville was not used to talking about this. In all his years at Hogwarts, he could still count on one hand the number of friends in whom he'd confided any details behind his living with his Gram, especially any information about his parents' situation that made that living arrangement necessary. He was shocked at how easily the answer to Nitrocris' question flowed from his lips.

"I live with her, have since I was three. My parents are still alive, actually. They worked for the Ministry of Magic as Aurors, and were trapped by one of You-Know-Who's Death Eaters, who tortured them with the Crutiatus Curse. They're in hospital still. I visit them when we're on break, but I don't think they know who I am."

Nitrocris' heart was breaking as he told her that. Her mother had died when she was an infant, but she had a wonderful father who took great care of her. Unfortunately, he had died when she was ten, at which point her uncles formed a barrier around her and kept others away. Fortunately, while her uncles were focused on increasing their own power and influence in Egypt, they paid no notice to the fact that the nurse who had been chosen by her parents to care for their daughter while they lived had continued in that role after their deaths. For all their efforts to mold Nitrocris into an acquiescent pawn in their power grab, the unassuming nurse saw to it that her charge grew up with the values that her parents intended for her to have. The girl met with her tutors as her uncles directed, and diligently applied herself to her studies, but all the time she spent in her private quarters, with the nurse who'd tended to her since infancy, was spent learning about her parents, their values, their plans for her, and her birthright.

She shared the basics of her story with Neville, also surprised at how easy the telling was. "My uncles have controlled the palace since my father died when I was ten, arguably in my name, until I came of age. Then they insisted I was not capable of ruling. The only person in my life who looks after me like your Grandmother looks after you is my nurse."

This was more than most people shared with Neville, and he as curious. "What are you going to do now?"

"Things are changing already. My uncles are resisting, of course, but I'm more committed than ever now to taking back my rightful role as ruler, in my own name."

Neville nodded. He knew, very well, what it felt like to be underestimated. "Are there others beside your nurse who you trust?"

"She's kept in touch with a number of my father's former advisors, and I've already summoned a few of them back. My uncles are furious. The eldest arrived this morning to try to bully me into returning to Egypt right away. He wants me to marry my cousin, his son."

Neville looked horrified at that. This whole "arranged marriage" thing was awful – first Harry, and now Nitrocris. He was willing to ask, though, "Do you want to marry him?"

"Not a bit. Can't stand him. He's arrogant, petty and mean, ever since we were children. I was lucky that his parents sent him away to school while they had me tutored at the Palace. I only saw him at holidays. It's obvious now that my uncles want me to marry him just so he can rule in my name."

Neville was at a loss for what to say to that. In his experience, Hermione was always very good at figuring out how to deal with problems, and he was just about to volunteer as much, when Nitrocris chuckled. "Oh, I think I have a way out of this whole thing. They'll be stunned."

Apparently, Hermione wasn't the only young woman who saw solutions where others saw roadblocks. Neville, however, had no idea what was going on. He sat with Nitrocris for a while longer, exchanging little stories from their upbringings and his experiences at Hogwarts before finally making their way back to the castle, just minutes before curfew.

X X X X X X X X X X

Albus Dumbledore had returned from his first Wizengamot social event in decades, and decided that while he was glad to have stayed away during those decades, he was very glad he'd gone to Amelia Bones' dinner party tonight. As he diligently practiced the new spells and curses he'd learned during the week, he smiled to himself as he revisited some of the conversations he'd had and sights he'd seen that evening.

He'd had a lovely conversation with Narcissa Malfoy, charming and stiff as ever, just as he recalled from her years as a student at Hogwarts. He'd enjoyed a lengthy chat with Remus Lupin who brought him up to speed on some matters coming before the Wizengamot. It was always a pleasure to speak to Sirius Black, especially now that the former Marauder was part of respectable society again. He looked like a fish out of water at the dinner, but Albus was confident that the young man would come around, if not on his own, with his bondmate's guidance.

The highlight of the evening, though, had to be watching Lucius Malfoy in deep conversation with the former werewolf Remus and the current vampire Lord Aventine. Albus got the gist of the story later from Remus, but the three spoke for a very long time, and it appeared to be a very serious discussion. Albus was more convinced than ever that Harry had known exactly what he was doing when he did not block Lucius from taking the seats on the Wizengamot and then in charging him with taking on the causes of the rights of werewolves and vampires. From all appearances, Lucius was totally committed to that now.

Albus sat on his bed when he finished his practice, checking his wards and various spells before retiring. He reached out, as he did most nights, to assess the bond he'd forged between Harry and Severus. It had been maturing rapidly lately, causing him to worry that his boys were accelerating their relationship faster than he'd expected, and possibly faster than was good for their future together. Severus had told him that he had no intention of engaging in a sexual relationship with Harry until the boy was of wizarding majority, still several months away, but the bond was maturing at a rate that generally suggested the joining of name and house was being accompanied by a joining of power and maybe even body. He hadn't heard of any seer speculating about Harry's virginity or lack thereof recently, but the strength of that bond, much stronger today than it had been yesterday, suggested that something was afoot. He'd been quick to check on his boys the first few times he detected the bond strengthen, and they both seemed surprised and a bit annoyed (at least, Severus seemed annoyed) at his inquiries. He decided to trust that if either needed his support or assistance, they'd reach out to him directly themselves. They seemed to be doing well, and he decided to trust them to get through this.

As he was just settling in under his bedcovers, his wards woke him. Someone had just entered his office, flown through the window in the tower.


	21. Ch 98 Who Knew?

Chapter 98 – Who Knew?

Albus appeared in his office just in time to see a large black griffon vulture, with startling emerald green eyes, alighting on the rug in front of the fireplace. He noticed that his own familiar, Fawlkes , was watching the new arrival with interest and no apparent alarm, confirming Albus' suspicion that this was a witch or wizard from within the castle in animagus form, and not an interloper or stray bird. Sure enough, the vulture shifted form and the Pharaoh Nitrocris appeared in its place.

Albus stayed out of her line of sight until it became clear that she was looking for something on the shelves of his office, and quickly changing his nightclothes to a robe in which it was appropriate to receive visitors, he stepped forward from the corner near the stairs to his own chambers. She did not appear at all startled by his sudden appearance, but calmly greeted him. "Good evening, Professor Dumbledore."

"And a good evening to you, my dear. What brings you to my office at such a late hour? Is there something that I can help you with?" He gestured toward the large chairs that flanked the fireplace, while setting a warming fire to blaze in the grate and summoning a tea service to appear on the small table between the chairs.

Nitrocris hadn't planned on having this sort of a discussion, but she realized that obviously a man like Dumbledore would have wards on his office, so her notion of slipping in unnoticed and never encountering anyone while here was clearly flawed. With an inward sigh at her miscalculation, she sat in the chair to which she had been directed and accepted the tea that the Headmaster presented to her. The Headmaster looked at her with grandfatherly concern over his half-moon glasses.

"I am terribly sorry to have disturbed you this late at night, sir. I wished to inspect an ancient magical artifact that I understand is in your possession. I have a personal problem and am very hopeful that it might help me find a solution."

Albus suspected that the problem involved her family – he'd heard about her uncle's appearance when she had expected one of her advisors, and of his abrupt dismissal after a very brief chat. He had also heard from Minerva that the young woman seemed quite taken with Neville Longbottom, a most curious but heartwarming development. He had quite a few ancient magical artifacts scattered around his office, some very rare and valuable, others just ancient. But when one considered all the known facts, the most likely of his possessions to be of interest to the Pharaoh was the Marriage Stone.

"In my experience, magical artifacts are not useful tools to solve problems. They provide a piece of information that might or might not be helpful to a witch or wizard, but rarely do they actually solve a problem. The human heart or mind is almost always the best source of solutions to problems. Perhaps you could describe your problem, and we'll see if there is an artifact here better able than you are to solve it."

"My uncles are pressuring me to marry one of their sons, a cousin a bit older than me. I detest the young man. I do not feel this is the right time for me to marry, either."

Albus nodded at her to continue. "You've made it clear to me and several others in Mrs. Longbottom's class that you intend to assert your power in Egypt and remove your uncles from positions where they can continue to challenge you and try to usurp your power. I assume that would include vetoing any attempts on their part to force you to marry, or to marry someone of their choosing."

He had a point. If she pushed her uncles from power, they would have no say in her marriage plans. But she wanted to be sure in her own selection, and confirmation of her feelings from an ancient artifact would give her the confidence she needed to pursue her dream and overcome any who sought to block her.

"I have met someone who I think might be the person I am to marry. He might be my soul mate. He is not Egyptian, so I anticipate great resistance if I announce that I choose to wed this man, when the time is right. If our union is supported by a legendary artifact, my choice will not be challenged."

Albus drew a deep breath. He understood her concern and empathized with her reasons for wanting to see what the Marriage Stone had to say, but this was a classic example of wrongful reliance on the artifact.

"My dear, there is nothing in this world that is better at finding your true love than your own heart. There is no artifact that can do that for you. A soul mate is not necessarily the person that you love, or want to marry; it can be, but might not be. You are young and have time to allow your heart and your mind to consider your options and reach the decision that is right for you."

Nitrocris did not look persuaded. Albus knew that he needed to share some of his own experiences with the Marriage Stone; maybe one of them would resonate enough with her to show her this truth.

"When I first came into possession of an artifact that purportedly showed a witch or wizard his or her soul mate, I must admit to some experimenting. I knew a couple who were happily married, both very content and loving in their union, a pair that others might look to with envy for the love they shared. I spoke their names to the artifact privately, and was shocked to learn that neither was the soul mate of the other. I made it my business to get to know these two better, and could only confirm that they were besotted with each other and still very much in love after over 50 years of marriage. Whatever being a soul mate meant, these two had found great happiness with the partner that their hearts and minds decided was the person that they loved, and lost not a whit of affection because the other was not their soul mate. I have periodically conducted this experiment several times over the years. There have been many very loving and devoted couples who are not each others' soul mates. On the other hand, there have been times when I inquired about the partners in marriages that appeared to be loveless and cold, I found that the two were indeed soul mates, albeit very discontented and unhappy people."

Nitrocris had a frown on her face as she pondered this. Albus was glad to see her reconsidering. He'd lost faith with the Marriage Stone as a result of seeing non-soul mates like Arthur and Molly Weasley enjoy the most loving of marriages while soul mates Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had not a shred of love or affection for each other. If the circumstances that confronted them that day last September had not required such drastic action, he never would have looked to the Marriage Stone for guidance. It was interesting that the match identified that day actually seemed to be working out; far too many marriages arranged solely as the result of the input from the Marriage Stone were unqualified disasters. The Marriage Stone clearly had its own very peculiar manner of identifying soul mates, but the soul mate it found was not necessarily the person one should marry, or would ever love.

Albus continued. "You have met someone who you think might be the man you want to marry. If you met that person here, it is likely that you are both still quite young, and probably neither of you is really ready for marriage at this time. Allow your hearts to determine if you love each other, and your minds to find out if you are compatible. There is no better way of assuring your future happiness. You do not need a husband right now as you stand up to your uncles and establish your own rule. When you have made your changes and know that it is time, your heart will not lead you astray."

Nitrocris was smiling now. "Thank you for your words of wisdom, Professor. You seem quite sure that the Marriage Stone is not going to solve my dilemma."

"Indeed, it will not provide you with a solution to the problem that you have. You want to find the right person to marry, and the issue of a soul mate is not relevant to that choice."

"But if you love someone who is also your soul mate, doesn't that make everything even better?"

"There is nothing necessarily reciprocal about the Marriage Stone's findings. I've seen couples where the Stone identified neither as the soul mate of the other, and also many where one was the soul mate of the other, but the other was shown to have a different person as their soul mate. Their happiness and loving relationships were not dependent on their status or not as soul mates. The worst disasters that can be attributed to the Marriage Stone have involved instances where loving couples learned that they were not soul mates and one or the other began to pine for what might have been, destroying what they had in the process. The discontent that has been sown by the Marriage Stone, the lives it has ruined, is a terrible tragedy. I do not want that tragedy to darken your life, my dear, nor the life of the lucky young man you hope to share yours with."

Reluctantly, Nitrocris stood. "I see your point, sir. Thank you."

The beautiful young woman was suddenly gone, and the black vulture she became gracefully flew to the window and headed back to her bed in the Gryffindor tower.

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry awoke at his usual languid pace on Sunday morning, and was not entirely surprised that Severus was still sound asleep. He'd never seen the man use Dreamless Sleep before, and it was not uncommon, in Harry's experience, that infrequent use of a potion like that could give it a stronger impact on the rare occasions it was used. It certainly did not bother him, as he contentedly held Severus spooned in front of him, dozing himself as he waited for his bondmate to awaken.

It was nearly an hour later that Severus began the slow process of awakening from a Dreamless Sleep-enhanced slumber. In his initial groggy awareness, he registered that something felt different, but he couldn't quite shake free of sleep long enough to figure out what it might be. He just knew he felt safe, and he drifted off. Surfacing a little while later, he was able to hold onto awareness a bit longer, enough time to understand that someone was holding him around the middle. Harry had fallen to sleep any number of times with his ear pressed against Severus' chest, listening to his heartbeat, so the notion of being held as he awoke was not unfamiliar. The third time Severus surfaced from his sleep, he realized that he was being held around the middle by someone spooned in behind him. This was unusual enough to grab and hold his attention as he broke free from the Dreamless Sleep and came more fully awake.

Severus was puzzling out how he came to be in this position. He was always, always, the one who held his partner in front of him on those occasions (not entirely regular ones until this past school year) when he slept with someone. He couldn't recall ever having been held like this, not even in his teenage years with his very first lover. He was always the dominant one in any relationship that he had, often by dint of his size alone, but usually because of his personality. How did he manage to cede that dominance to someone who was able to maneuver him like this? And then make him feel completely comfortable and at ease in this position?

The process of focusing his thoughts long enough to have that small inner dialog drove the last cobwebs from his mind, and memories of the day before, the reason he'd dosed himself so liberally with Dreamless Sleep in the first place, came rushing back. Harry felt the tension flood Severus and immediately hugged him firmly as he spoke softly to calm the man.

"Shhh, Severus, it's all right. Calm down. You're fine. Everything is alright. Don't be upset."

With a few deep breaths, Severus did settle himself down, although he did not move. Harry kept his voice soft as he continued. "You're fine. You took Dreamless Sleep on an empty stomach last night. I found you in bed already when I got back from dinner, out cold, but tension just pouring off you. I gave you a back rub, got all the knots out. Your back feels good, doesn't it? And then I gave your magic a back rub – it was as riled up as the rest of you was. You fell into a really deep sleep then, and I'll bet you feel tons better this morning. I heard about the forsythia. I'm really sorry about the way I went at you when you got back here. Nothing went right for you at all yesterday, and I know how that can feel."

Severus thought to himself that there was a time not all that long ago that he would have laughed had someone suggested to him that Harry had any idea what a day like the one he had yesterday felt like. Now, he knew he was hearing that from a young man who'd probably experienced even more bad days than he had, and probably worse ones. He slipped his hand to his chest, and caught Harry's hand between his own and his chest, as he slowly eased himself onto his back. Harry in turn stretched on his side, flexing his other arm to support his head while they spoke.

"I nearly caused a disaster of terrible proportions, bringing that little plant back here. I had no idea, of course, but I still should have known better, or at least proceeded more cautiously. I should have at least asked Longbottom to research the properties of the plant and be sure it could safely be transported, before just going ahead and bringing one back with me."

Harry snorted at Severus, and then laughed when he realized he'd just made a very Severus-sounding snort. "I'm starting to snort like you! Don't be silly." Severus raised his eyebrows at the word "silly." "Really, that plant was completely harmless sitting there in the Winter Land field, so why would anyone think it couldn't live and would create dead zones if you brought it here?"

"I still should have known better, and taken appropriate precautions." It suddenly dawned on Severus that he had not provided any details about the plant. With a roll of his eyes, he shook his head. "Who told you about the plant?"

"Neville told us at dinner."

Severus groaned – that meant that all the blasted Gryffindors knew.

"Oh, stop it. No one will say anything to you about it. Gryffindors do have a sense of self-preservation, you know."

A small smile threatened to escape to his lips as Severus considered Harry's very earnest expression. He truly believed this would never be thrown in Severus' face by one of his House-mates, or one of their cousins, or younger siblings. This was the sort of thing that could haunt Severus for decades to come, his own personal dead zone, as it were.

Something else Harry had said now captured Severus' attention. "You said you gave my magic a back rub. What exactly do you mean by that?"

Harry offered a small chuckle. "When I was done working the knots out of your back, I thought I'd try to calm you by stroking your magic." Severus' eyebrows shot up dramatically at that. "It turned out that your magic was as knotted up as the rest of you had been, so I sort of massaged it. Put you into a sound sleep."

Severus pondered that for a few minutes as he continued to hold Harry's hand against his chest. "You really can reach out and touch my magic?"

"Sure. I've always been able to see others' magic. I probably realized that I could do this by third year. I never mentioned it to anyone – it never seemed to be something that came up in conversation. When Hermione was talking to me earlier this year about … well, whatever, I did tell her that I could see magic, and she suggested that was something I should never share with anyone." Harry had almost referred to Hermione's well-intentioned but ill-advised discussion with Harry about annulments, and Harry recalled just in time how distressed that had made Severus the first time he'd mentioned it.

Now a smile graced Harry's face. "Once I've been told I shouldn't mention something, it becomes that much more interesting, you know. I became more aware of my own magic, and of the magic in others. I can see it even more clearly now, in pretty much everyone. Yours is the only magic I've ever actually touched." The blush that now crept across Harry's face confirmed that this might have happened as part of some of their intimate explorations, and possibly explained to Severus his extreme (and positive) reaction to those explorations.

Severus realized now that he'd felt a bit different several times after awakening with Harry, and then there was that one morning when he discovered he could see house elves. Those were all times that they had been more intimate than usual the night before. Was it possible that their magics were joining, as a result of what Harry was doing? Ought he explain this to Harry? If the boy still hoped to be rid of him once he reached majority, although admittedly that appeared not to be what Harry wanted to do, the chance of getting an annulment in the face of obviously joined names, houses and magics rendered the fact that they had not joined bodies somewhat less significant.

Harry had been watching his face intently, reveling in the fact that Severus had the most amazingly expressive eyes, and when he did not realize he was being watched, even his facial expressions gave away so much! He could not imagine how he and all his friends had always regarded the man as such a stony bastard. Harry could see that he was conflicted over something, although he wasn't entirely sure what. "What's wrong, Severus?"

With a nervous glance at Harry, Severus opted for total honesty. He hoped that his luck would run as good today as it had run bad yesterday, so he would not regret this. "I suspect that you are joining our magics when you touch mine. That's probably how I suddenly came to be able to see house elves. And I've felt somehow different a few other times." Harry did not seem at all concerned about this information, so Severus felt he had to make it clearer; he was dealing with a Gryffindor, after all. "Remember that we pledged to join our names, our houses, our magics and our bodies when we were bonded. Three out of four."

To his absolute amazement, Harry leaned in for a quick kiss at that point, and, unmindful of the fact that he'd simply wriggled out of his clothes last night and never gotten into his pajamas, bolted from the bed toward the bathroom. "First dibs on the shower, unless you want to join me?"

That was not an invitation that Severus had any intention of declining.

X X X X X X X X X X

During dinner on Saturday night, a house elf had reported to Madam Pomfrey that there was a woman squib knocked out on the floor right outside the Great Hall. She asked that the elf move the woman to the infirmary, but he refused to do so. With an annoyed sigh, the mediwitch quickly finished her own dinner and went to see to this problem; the only person in the castle who would merit such disrespectful treatment from the little creatures had to be Harry's hateful aunt. Sure enough, when Madam Pomfrey finally went off to see to this new patient, it was none other than Petunia Dursley.

Madam Pomfrey levitated her along to the Infirmary on her own, as all the elves were adamant that they would do nothing for Petunia, and Argus Filch was a squib himself. She was tempted to put Petunia in a bed toward the middle of the room, and not spare one of the more desirable beds near a window for this woman. Good sense won out when she considered what a nuisance Petunia would be once she awoke, and finally opted to deposit her in a bed near a window.

A few quick scans confirmed that Petunia had a broken jaw and a cracked skull. She could have been hit first and then hit her head when she fell to the floor, although she could have just fallen and broken her jaw in the fall. Madam Pomfrey was sorely tempted to make no effort to heal the woman. She knew that her magical healing skills would be vilified when Petunia came to, and Merlin knows, Petunia deserved to feel the pain and suffer with these injuries like a muggle. Madam Pomfrey had taken the Hippocratic Oath upon the conclusion of her training as a mediwitch, however. It took her a good half hour to think through the situation and reach the conclusion, reluctantly, that she did have to treat this detestable woman.

She was able to repair the bones with spells; she'd have to delay offering some Skelegrow Potion until after Petunia regained consciousness. She was also able to spell down the swelling. As much as she did not want to do it, she'd gotten Petunia as good as new within minutes. She was able to waken Petunia as soon as she'd controlled the swelling in her brain, and gruffly presented her with a glass of potion and a muttered instruction to "Drink." Petunia took the offered glass and was able to get the dose down in a single gulp.

"I've fixed your broken jaw and cracked skull. This potion will strengthen the bones, and get them knit together; you should be fine by tomorrow. You need to remain here until tomorrow morning; if all is well then, you can return to your dormitory." Madam Pomfrey had decided that her vow required that she heal the woman, but not that she do anything to make her comfortable. She did not offer any food, or even pain potion. She'd done enough.

The next morning, Petunia was awake but lying in bed with her eyes closed, feeling neglected, abused and very sorry for herself. She'd been seriously injured, if the report of a fractured jaw and cracked skull were to be believed. Of course, she'd not seen an x-ray machine in this place, so who knew if that diagnosis was accurate? No one seemed to care that she'd been assaulted or injured. The more she thought on all this, the sadder she became, eventually tearing up and sobbing softly.

After a short doze, she wakened to hear someone nearby talking. She wasn't exactly eavesdropping, but these people were talking loudly enough that she could hear them easily. A man and woman were having a consultation with that nasty nurse person.

"Madam Pomfrey, we know that the practice has all but died out, but Margaret and I have discussed this and concluded that it is time for the Landon and Eccles lines to be bolstered by a squib surrogacy. We feel it is essential, especially in these troubled times, to ensure that our heir be magically strong. We plan on having many children, and will likely only want to rely on a surrogacy for the first, as Margaret is capable of bearing children, and wishes to do so. We also felt that this might be an opportune time to find a squib woman who wishes to become magical herself, with so many women only discovering right now that they have magic."

She nodded distractedly. "Mr. and Mrs. Landon, I can certainly understand your thinking. I agree that it is prudent for magical families to engage a surrogate every fourth or fifth generation to assure that the magical line remains strong. I've arranged dozens of such pregnancies, and I'm sure we can find someone willing to assist you. However, I believe our best option is to find a squib female in a magical family."

A young female voice now joined the conversation. "Poppy, we'd really prefer if we can do something for these poor things who have just learned that they have magic. This is our way of helping one of these creatures to find her magical home."

The nurse person chuckled at that. "You can't really expect that the squibs we've gathered here in the wake of the sleeping spell to be good candidates for surrogate motherhood. These women live without magic in the muggle world, and we have to assume that they will be returning to that world when this crisis passes. They have no knowledge or awareness of the magical world, so what does the promise of magic after bearing a magical child mean to them? Something that they can't take with them to their old world, and they aren't really a part of the magical world, either. No, the best arrangement would be for your surrogate to be someone in the magical world whose status as a squib relegates her to the fringes of our society, offering her a way of joining society more completely by finding her magic."

The man's voice rejoined the conversation. "Ah, I do see your point. Our compassion was perhaps misplaced. May Margaret and I leave this in your hands, and ask you to send us an owl if you identify a suitable candidate."

"I'd be happy to help. There are a few very discreet mediwitches I know at St. Mungo's who usually know of families with a squib daughter who would be thrilled to assist you. I'll make some inquiries directly."

Margaret replied "Eustace and I are ever so grateful, Poppy. We look forward to hearing from you."

Eustace? Even in this wretched world, really, how many people would saddle their child with the name Eustace? That must be Amaranth's friend, the one who showed her how to eat with a dagger when holding silverware was too painful. How tragic that such a nice young man and his wife needed to look for the services of a surrogate mother! He certainly looked like a healthy young man, but maybe his wife had a weakness? There was certainly nothing particularly pleasant about being pregnant for nine months, in Petunia's limited experience, but she assumed that any woman would prefer to birth her own baby.

Petunia went back to sleep for a short while, her sense of moral superiority restored by the knowledge that she'd personally given birth to her own son, and not asked someone else to handle that for her.

X X X X X X X X X X

The Sunday evening crowd in the Gryffindor common room had begun to dwindle when Nitrocris noticed Hermione sitting at one of the tables by herself. From what she'd heard of Hermione's study habits, it was safe to assume that she was getting caught up on the classes she'd missed the week before and would miss in the week to come. Nitrocris thought she'd be interested in what Professor Dumbledore had told her about the Marriage Stone, so she took at seat at the table Hermione was using and waited for Hermione to look up to acknowledge her presence.

It turned out that Hermione was quite interested in what Nitrocris had learned.

"I've been wondering about that. Admittedly, the day Professor Dumbledore suggested that we use the Marriage Stone to help Harry, we were in an absolute tizzy and we needed to do something fast. He seemed very pleased with the selection of Snape as Harry's partner, but things the others said indicated that the Marriage Stone had been behind some real disasters. If it worked for Harry, why on earth wasn't it in more general use? Why was it a great success at times, and an abysmal failure at others? No one explained anything about that."

Nitrocris had to agree. "I would never have imagined that a human heart and mind could do better than a magical artifact at understanding compatibility or love. Even your Sorting Hat purports to know the inner values and character of each new student. Why do you listen to the Sorting Hat, but hide the Marriage Stone?"

"Maybe it's like Professor Dumbledore said: the artifact knows one thing, or has one perspective. Hogwarts' founders each had a specific set of values, and the Sorting Hat can determine how each new student's character aligns with those values, and place the student in the House of the founder whose values best match his or her own. But the people in each House are not necessarily friends, they don't agree on many things, they all have very different lives. If you tried to use the Sorting Hat to predict more than the values that connect someone to a House, or try to extrapolate the sorting decision to mean more than that, maybe it would produce disasters, too."

"The Headmaster's perspective is that soul mates are not the same as love matches. He said he's seen many loving marriages where the husband and wife were very happy with each other, and they were not soul mates. He also said that soul mates were not necessarily reciprocal; just because a husband's soul mate is his wife does not mean that the Marriage Stone would identify him as her soul mate."

Hermione looked distressed at that news. "Oh, no. Could that mean, then, that while Snape is Harry's soul mate, Snape's soul mate could be someone else?"

Nitrocris just nodded as Hermione sadly shook her head.


	22. Ch 99 Peace Crumbles

Chapter 99 – Peace Crumbles

Harry took full advantage of the final week of Mrs. Longbottom's class. He was able to spend additional time with Severus in the evenings, as his bondmate took full advantage of not having schoolwork to grade to spend the time instead in his private lab. For the most part, Harry sat at his desk in the lab, doing his own school work or translations, but he was glad to be keeping Severus' company as they both worked on their different projects.

Severus was secretly delighted that Harry passed up the chance to spend his evenings with Remus and Sirius, or for that matter, with the dolts in the Gryffindor Tower. He felt he was making good progress on his research and brewing, although at this point, he had nothing concrete to show for all his efforts. He was philosophical about that. Such was the reality of potions research, and he'd long ago accepted that he'd spend hours of work only to establish what did not work. As the week wore on, he thought he was on the brink of finding something that did work, and the excitement of that prospect fuelled his interest and enthusiasm.

Petunia had been released from the Infirmary on Sunday morning and, ever the gossip even in this strange environment, had looked all week for the chance to speak privately with Amaranth about what she'd overheard while in the Infirmary. She got her chance over lunch on Thursday.

"I could not help but overhear a couple having a conversation with the nurse about using a surrogate to have a child, and I think that the young man might have been your friend Eustace," she began. "Do some witches have a problem carrying children?"

Amaranth smiled at Petunia's misunderstanding of the situation. "No, no more than muggle women; the anatomy's the same. The point of using surrogates is seldom physical here, it's usually magical – to assure that children are born with magic. For some reason, if a squib woman carries a child for a magical couple, the child always has magic. When times are difficult or dangerous and people want to be sure that their children are not born squibs, interest in surrogate mothers always rises."

Petunia seemed nonplussed by that news, so Amaranth continued. "Really, it's a good thing all around. The child will have magic, and the squib woman who carries the child gets magic, as well. Imagine if you were born into a magical family as a squib. It's a very limiting situation, you really can't fully participate in the magical world, but your family is not part of the muggle world, so you're stuck. I don't doubt that any number of families with a squib daughter have let people like Madam Pomfrey know that the daughter would like to be a surrogate."

"The nurse did say she had contacts and expected she'd be able to help them. I did not realize that Eustace was married – he didn't say anything about a family when we met."

"His marriage was arranged by his father when he was a child, and I think they actually got married a few years ago, although the wife – Margot? Margaret? something like that – might not have set up a household with him yet. Eustace's father is a bit of a blow-hard, likes to control everything, and I think there might have been some inheritance that should have gone to Eustace that he was blocking. My brother mentioned something in a letter he sent just the other day about it finally getting resolved." With a chuckle, she added "Well, they're wasting no time, are they?"

A special dinner was held on Friday evening to bid farewell to the many foreign visitors who would either be departing later that evening or the next morning. Henri Clovis had presented a case of wine to Severus to make amends for the atrocious behavior of his brother Philip, so wine was shared with those at the expanded Head Table. The volume of noise there rose with each refilling of the wine glasses.

Down in the middle of the Gryffindor table, Nitrocris sat with a rather wistful look on her face for her last dinner with her new friends. She'd never regretted that her time at Hogwarts had been spent in just one House, despite her request upon her arrival. While it might have been interesting to experience Hogwarts among the other Houses, too, she'd been surprised at what she found in Gryffindor. She was seated next to Neville Longbottom for one final dinner, amused that the others could not see past that shy, unassuming exterior to the extraordinary young man beneath.

Neville remained puzzled by Nitrocris' attention. The other boys were still doing their best to catch her eye, and she was certainly not at all rude to them, but she kept bringing him back into conversations, asking for his opinion or thoughts on various things. It made him a bit uncomfortable. Harry thought he was the only one who caught on, both to Neville's puzzled discomfort and Nitrocris' unshakable interest in the young Gryffindor, but a quick look at Hermione made it clear to him that she was also quite aware of this. Hermione seemed to approve of whatever was going on, so Harry said nothing, resolving to ask her what she knew about it when they were able to speak in private.

Harry was relieved to see that the frostiness between his best friends, Hermione and Ron, seemed to have thawed a bit. They never let on to him that anything was amiss, but he noticed the little things that made it clear that all was not well. The details of whatever was going on between them were more than he'd ever want to know, and he was grateful that he had not again walked up on them engaged in a snogging session, but he certainly wanted them to be happy.

Actually, he was reasonably sure that their happiness was going to come from them being together. After Severus had questioned him about his ability to see the paths before people, he'd idly begun testing that new skill out a bit. It felt a bit like an invasion of privacy to look for someone's path, but it seemed very happenstance for him to see a path before someone if he made no effort to see one. He'd experimented a few times looking at Hermione and Ron, who he figured might not mind too much. He was pretty sure that they were heading along the path toward a future together.

That thought brought him back to Neville as they sat at the table. He might not mind too much if Harry tried to see his path; so Harry quietly focused his mind on his friend, now blushing crimson because of something Nitrocris had just said to him. Harry definitely saw something, but he wasn't entirely sure what it meant. There was distance involved – was Neville going somewhere? Harry recalled that pompous young man he'd met who sourced plants. Maybe Neville would do something like that, and travel? Neville certainly knew plants, more than Harry had ever imagined there was to know. Even Severus seemed to be impressed with Neville's knowledge of plants. He was really good with tending to them, too. That made sense, then. This was generally the frustration Harry had with this whole "path" thing – Harry might see something that made one person's path unique or different from someone else's, but he had no idea what it all meant.

Harry was suddenly aware that conversation had come to halt around him, and instantly realized that he'd been brought into the conversation to which he'd been paying no attention whatsoever. With a good-natured shrug, and a small smile, he rejoined his tablemates. "Sorry – bit of woolgathering there. What'd I miss?"

To his embarrassment, it was Nitrocris who answered him. "Harry Potter, I had asked you if you were going to participate in the program next week, for students and others who could not join us full-time for two weeks."

"Sure, I'll be in that class. Lots of us here will be part of it. I've heard great things about it, and I'm sure it will be fantastic. Did you enjoy your time at Hogwarts, Nitrocris?"

She smiled warmly at that question. "Best time I've had in many years. I was so pleased to have spent the time in Gryffindor, too, getting to know all of you. I wonder if Professor Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall will confirm what the Sorting Hat had to say about where I belonged before I leave? I never actually got sorted, you know. I was intending to move between all the Houses, but when Felicity came down with verdemengus, they decided it was best for me to stay put rather than risk spreading it. How fortunate that no one else became ill!"

Clearly some around the table knew about the non-sorting, but others did not, and there was a flow of questions now about those arrangements. Harry was glad to have the conversation focused away from himself, lest his mind wander again. He certainly did not want to insult Nitrocris if she asked him a question while his mind was elsewhere.

Eventually, the table started to empty, and finally even the knot of students surrounding Nitrocris and her new friends began to thin out. Harry took his leave when he saw Hermione stand, and after promising to see Nitrocris in the Headmaster's office before she flooed to her home the next morning, he left the Great Hall with his friends.

"Harry, where were you tonight? I could not believe that you were paying no attention at all to the conversation going on in front of you! Is something wrong?"

Typical Hermione. She missed nothing, and worried about every little thing.

"I was just thinking, Hermione. About nothing in particular really, just let my mind wander. I hope Nitrocris didn't think I was being rude."

"I don't think you created an international incident, if that's what you're thinking, but it's not like you to just blank out on us like that."

"Actually, I noticed something between Nitrocris and Neville, and you noticed it too. What's that all about?"

Hermione seemed both surprised and pleased by that observation. "It's been going on almost since she arrived. She's clearly sweet on Neville."

Ron snorted at that revelation. "Bloody hell! Did she tell you that?"

"She never said a word. But it was obvious to me from the way she kept bringing him into the conversations, even when Dean was all but making a complete ass of himself to get her attention the other night." With an appraising look at Ron, she added "Neville doesn't seem to have a clue about it, either." Looking back at Harry, she asked "What caught your attention, Harry? You're a bit better at seeing things like this than Ron, but this is still surprisingly subtle."

"I don't know. Tonight, watching her banter with some of the guys – and I want to hear about Dean the other night – and she always kept going back to Neville."

"Very good, Harry. You caught it. It's been like that for the past two weeks. Normally, Neville does not stay around all that long when the boys get going." Ron bristled slightly at the reference to "boys" but this was all news to him, so he did not interrupt. "He usually goes to take care of a plant, or finish an essay. He hasn't been able to escape the group all week, and he even took Nitrocris down to the lake one evening – she asked him to walk with her."

Ron had a puzzled expression on his face. That all seemed pretty clear when Hermione put it like that, but he'd certainly never noticed any of it. Harry smiled at Ron. One of the great constants in his life was a best mate who had, as Hermione once commented, the emotional range of a teaspoon!

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry was surprised to find Severus sitting before the fire in the dimly lit parlor and not in his lab when he returned to his rooms after his conversation with Hermione and Ron. Harry observed him for a second, to see if there was anything obviously wrong, but he didn't look upset, so Harry ventured to sit on the sofa. Severus had been studying the flame in the fire, and only looked over at Harry when Harry finally spoke to him.

"Is something wrong, Severus? No brewing?"

Severus gave him a baleful look. "You never brew potions after drinking an alcoholic beverage, Harry. Potions are dangerous enough when you have your wits fully about you, but even after a glass of wine, your reactions are slower, your mind not as sharp. No brewing tonight."

That still did not explain Severus' uncharacteristic melancholy sitting in the dim room. If Severus was not brewing for some reason, he'd normally be sitting here reading, most likely one of his numerous potions journals.

"It looked like things were rather raucous up at the Head Table tonight with the wine from Henri. That was a nice gesture, wasn't it? Did you enjoy it?"

He got a look from Severus that Harry did not quite understand. "Oh, the wine was excellent, and it certainly released inhibitions, some of which frankly, I think should be kept under tighter control." Harry could hear a "but" hanging at the end of that sentence, and with a nod of his head, urged Severus to add what he had omitted from that statement.

"That was not the wine that Henri gave me. I had to replace his gift with a case of wine from my own stores."

To Severus' annoyance, it was clear that Harry was not connecting the dots, as he appeared completely puzzled by the need to serve replacement wine. Once a Gryffindor, etc. Small words, simple concepts.

"The wine in the case that Henri presented to me was poisoned. Had it actually been poured at the Head Table, everyone who drank it would be dead by now – it was a particularly fast-acting and deadly poison. Even if we'd put bezoars at every place setting and everyone knew to swallow one as soon as they sipped the wine, probably three quarters of them would have died anyway."

Harry's head was spinning. He could feel his heartbeat as the blood thundered in his ears, and he became aware that his hands were starting to shake. "Why?" was all Harry could get out of his mouth.

Severus realized how distressed Harry was at this news, and cursed himself silently for not recalling how personally he took actions like this, even when there was nothing Harry could have done about them. He moved to sit next to Harry on the sofa, his arm around Harry's shoulders.

"I imagine that they still want me out of the way. I suspect that they were hoping that I'd keep the case for my personal use."

"They?"

"I have to suspect that Henri is allied with Philip, or perhaps even directly with whomever is directing Philip. Most likely Louis XXIII."

"Louis XXIII would murder all those people, just to kill you?"

"As I said, I don't think they expected me to offer to have the wine served at dinner tonight. You saw that Henri was not at dinner? He tried to make his excuses for an early departure as soon as I told the class that we'd be sharing wine tonight that was a gift to me from Henri. Albus was immediately suspicious and alerted Shacklebolt, who was able to detain him, and he's locked up at the Ministry right now."

Harry was appalled that such treachery had played out at Hogwarts, at the hand of someone he'd invited to be there. "Do the others know about this?"

"No, there is no need for anyone else to know. This is better handled quietly. I had no intention of having anything served at Hogwarts not prepared by house elves that I had not myself checked for adulteration. I fully intended to check the wine as soon as I received it, so no one was at risk of consuming poisoned wine. The Ministry contacted the French Auror organization to discuss the matter with them."

"What about that spell the Headmaster cast after Henri Clovis arrived here? What will happen?"

Severus knew the answer would upset Harry, but was resolved to be truthful. "In all likelihood, someone in France is dead right now from the magic in that spell. By attempting to poison me, even without success, whoever was behind this act will suffer the fate intended for me."

A whole series of emotions paraded their way across Harry's expressive face as Severus watched. He was furious, that was good. Angry – also good. Hurt – unfortunate but still appropriate. Enraged – unexpected, but not objectionable under the circumstances. And then sad and guilty. That was not acceptable.

"Harry, you are not to take any responsibility at all on yourself for this. The Headmaster set that spell in place after we were all assured that Henri, on his word as a gentleman, would take no action against anyone at Hogwarts while he was here. Henri brought his own problems onto himself, and whoever was pushing Henri, the same. You bear absolutely no accountability or responsibility for this, and I will not sit here and watch you become upset."

Severus really meant that last. He'd seen Harry take the deaths of others to his heart, and assume responsibility for things with which he had no reasonable connection. Albus would be watching the news from Versailles over the next day or two for a report of an unexpected death among the royals or grandees. In all likelihood, the head of the French Auror organization had already been summoned to the Ministry of Magic in London where veritaserum would be administered to Henri. Once he confessed, diplomatic efforts to have him returned to France would be dropped, and he'd be kissed by a Dementor. He stood and reached down for Harry's hands, and pulled the smaller man to stand before him.

"Would you like to go for a walk? Some fresh air might help."

Well, in truth, fresh air wasn't going to do anything to lift the black cloud of guilt that was starting to settle over Harry's heart, but he nodded numbly and allowed Severus to bundle him into his cloak against the spring chill and dampness. How could someone think to do this? Kill Severus, and all those other people, just so Harry would be free to marry? Why on earth would Harry even consider marrying someone who'd be behind such a heinous plan? What kind of person would do such a thing?

By the time Harry had internally recriminated and argued and fumed at the situation thoroughly, he found himself walking along the shore of the lake, hand in hand with Severus. It was a lovely evening, even if still a bit chilly. A soft ripple sounded over the water, and in the moonlight, he saw the giant squid breaching the surface and floating along, also seeming to enjoy the evening. They had reached one of the secluded clearings that lined the far side of the lake, where a felled tree had been levitated into place generations ago to serve as a bench for quiet conversations or other private activities.

Severus didn't actually intend for them to sit. As he led Harry into the clearing, he turned Harry to face him, and drew him into a tight embrace. Harry was surprised at the comfort he received from that gesture. Somehow, in the act of holding him, Severus seemed to be pushing all the evil that kept trying to intrude on his life away. Harry stood there quietly, holding on to Severus fiercely, for a good long while. Finally, Harry sighed into Severus' chest.

"I'm sorry for getting so upset. This is nice, here. Thanks."

"Are you feeling better?" Severus inquired, concerned at the depth of Harry's initial distress. He could feel Harry's head nodding against him in response.

"I was just thinking." Severus automatically harrumphed at that, and got a good-natured harrumph from Harry in return. "A spell like that – can it be used in battle or war, to prevent people from being killed?"

"No, Harry, it doesn't work like that. The spell would not have prevented anyone from being harmed, only our diligence does that. The spell reflected the intended harm back to the person who directed the action be taken. If Henri had acted on his own, with no other direction, it would have caused the harm to come to him. That he was not affected by his own action tells us he was acting for someone else." Harry accepted that in silence, continuing to cling tightly to the taller man.

Eventually, Severus looked down at Harry and stepped slightly back, so he could lift Harry's face to him, as he bent down to capture Harry's mouth in a kiss. Harry returned the kiss as if his very life depended on it, and by the time they broke for gulps of air, both were flushed and aroused. Severus had briefly entertained a thought of suggesting that they recline on the log (with a cushioning spell, of course), but a noise from the lake drew their attention. The giant squid had floated over to see what they were doing, and those enormous eyes were creepy enough in the daylight. Harry was clearly unnerved at the sight, so the evening's activities had to adjourn back to their rooms. Severus muttered to himself, as he walked with Harry on the path back to the entrance to the dungeons, that the damn squid was better than two Prefects, a Head of House and Filch at keeping amorous activities to a minimum at the lake.

X X X X X X X X X X

Severus and Albus were having tea in Albus' office on Saturday afternoon. It had been a very hectic morning, with so many departing from the floo in the Headmaster's Office. Harry and Minerva had joined them for the morning, formally bidding good-bye to those who had attended Mrs. Longbottom's program.

Nitrocris had been the last to depart. She'd received several owls at breakfast, and a look of great annoyance crossed her beautiful features as she read the missives from her uncles, although it was replaced almost immediately with a look of great determination. Albus had caught that, and smiled approvingly. The young woman had strength and a clear vision of the future she wanted for herself and for Egypt. Her uncles were in for quite a shock, as her resolve to rule as she saw fit had multiplied many times over during her stay at Hogwarts.

She'd bid rather formal farewells to Severus, Minerva and Albus, but had a hug and kiss on the cheek for Harry, to his slight embarrassment. She was still smiling and waving as she disappeared into the green flames in the floo taking her home.

Almost as soon as she disappeared, it occurred to Albus that they had not asked the Sorting Hat where it would have sorted her. As he want to retrieve the Hat from its spot up in the shelves in his office, Severus asked "Why on earth does this matter? She's gone back to Egypt, Albus, not just down the road. We'll not be seeing her again."

Minerva responded "Actually, she's made Neville Longbottom promise to write to her, and she said she'd be writing to him. She asked him and his grandmother to come to Thebes this summer for a visit, too." Severus looked rather surprised at that, although Albus' eyes twinkled even more merrily than usual. When Albus returned bearing the Sorting Hat, they all looked on with interest as it was asked to tell them into what House it would have sorted the young Pharoah.

It delayed its answer for a beat before replying, "Slytherin."

Minerva sputtered and Albus looked shocked. Severus found their reaction very amusing, but restrained himself from laughing at them. After their shocked reactions had subsided, Minerva and Harry departed for Saturday dinner while Albus asked Severus to remain behind for a few minutes so they could speak before joining everyone in the Great Hall.

"Did you tell him, Severus?"

"Yes, Albus, I did, about the poison. I took your thoughts on the subject into account of course, but felt that Harry would never trust me if I withheld information of that sort from him. He was a bit distressed at first, but I think he's past that. Is there news from the Ministry? Or Versailles?"

"There's news from both actually. It was a great shock to the French wizarding world last night to learn that Louis XXIII had suddenly died of unexplained causes. Their mediwizards have not been able to determine the cause of death. As I understand it, aspects of his death mirror a poisoning, but there is no evidence at all of any such substance in or around the body. I predict that they will continue to run scans for another day or two before announcing that he died of natural causes."

"The French Auror organization was still reeling from the death of the head of their royal family and then they were totally shocked when our Ministry contacted them about Henri Clovis' arrest for attempted murder. Henri really was a rising star there, and when they arrived, there was talk initially of damage to diplomatic relations and the need for extradition. But then he took the veritaserum and freely admitted what he did. They walked out, and left him to English justice, they were so appalled. Henri has already been Kissed." Severus nodded solemnly at that news. An awful fate like that was never something over which to rejoice, even if the person was being Kissed because of a plot to murder you yourself.

"Do you think anyone will ever see a connection between Henri and Louis?"

"If you mean that Henri's actions caused Louis' death, no. The spell I cast that day works only on magic, so the death of Louis will not point to anyone. It delivered the consequence, but not the causation. Will we begin to hear of Louis' plots in the days to come? I expect we will. It would appear that the stories of his conniving were true. Philip Clovis has been rumored to have been doing his bidding for years, and now it appears possible that Henri was involved, as well. Who knows how many others have been cajoled into participating in these sorts of things?"

Severus could not argue that Louis' name and reputation would take a beating in the next weeks and months, but he still found Albus' reaction to Louis' death by virtue of a spell he'd put in place horribly coldblooded, one more reason to be very wary of Albus Dumbledore.

When Severus returned to his quarters later that afternoon, he was surprised to find Harry there, working on one of his translations in front of the fire. He seemed calm, although the way he was worrying the corner of one of the photocopy papers showed that something was still bothering him. He looked up from his work, with a small smile, but his eyes were troubled.

"I saw a copy of the Daily Prophet before. It seems that Louis XXIII of France passed away unexpectedly on Friday evening."

Severus picked up the story, based on what he'd heard from Albus. "And their mediwizards are not able to determine the cause of death. There are some indications that he died from poison, but there is absolutely no evidence of any poison in or around his body. A most curious case. However, in the absence of any poisonous substance, he could not have died from poison. I suspect this will ultimately be regarded as a death by natural causes, once everything else is ruled out."

"I don't know what to think about that."

Not very articulate, but Severus thought he knew what Harry meant. He took a set next to Harry on the sofa, and held Harry's hand in his own. "Louis brought about his own death. He sent someone to Hogwarts with the goal of killing me with a gift of poisoned wine. His plan backfired. He had not considered that I might be generous with the gift and offer to share it with the group, including his agent, who panicked and tried to bolt. Then the plot rebounded on him because he did not realize that we were protected by a very unusual spell."

Almost in spite of himself, Harry smiled. That made sense, and it helped him come to terms with the Headmaster's role here.

"And what happened with Henri?"

"Albus heard from the Ministry a while ago. The French Aurors were summoned there today, and they arrived with the usual bluster and threats. But once Henri took the veritaserum and confessed, they parted ways with him. He's already been Kissed. He's not a threat to you, or to me, or to anyone else, anymore."

That seemed to placate Harry. His smile deepened a bit as he thought it over.

"Oh, by the way, Severus, this message came to you from the Potion Makers Guild this afternoon." He offered up a thick parchment envelope that a fussy barn owl had delivered an hour earlier.

Severus took it with curiosity. He recognized the handwriting, but thought better than to tell Harry it had been written by Andre Serrent. The letter inside came from Master Dorester himself.

Severus sat quietly reading through several pages, as Harry watched. When it appeared that Severus had come to the last page, Harry finally interrupted. "Well, what's up? What do they want?"

"This is a rather remarkable letter from the Potion Makers Guild. I submitted the lycanthropy potion for their review only one or two months ago. Normally, they fuss over a submission like this for years, decades even. They wish me to attend a meeting at the Ministry this coming week to discuss a few questions they have, all in preparation for their announcement that it is to be recognized as a treatment for lycanthropy in certain cases."

"Why do they have to review and recognize it? You already made it and Remus demonstrated that it worked. What role do they have?"

Severus was once again taken by the earnestness of Harry's approach to things. How very Gryffindorish! "I could have kept information about that potion to myself, and we could probably still have proved that Remus was cured. Sharing the potion with the Guild for their review was a big help to our case that day, though." Harry said nothing, but his heart leapt at Severus' reference to "our" case, and his eyes glowed at Severus' admission that he was starting to regard himself as part of Harry's family.

Severus realized that Harry was quite unaware of the many nuances of this aspect of wizarding society, so he explained further. "As a Potions Master, I can sell potions that I develop as I wish. For example, I could choose to produce small quantities of this potion and sell the doses for exorbitant fees to those afflicted with lycanthropy and rich enough to afford what I charged. I would not need the Guild's approval to do that."

Harry's face reflected his disapproval of such a money-grubbing approach, so Severus quickly continued. "I do not wish to keep this to myself. I want the potion recognized and accepted as a treatment that can cure lycanthropy if the witch or wizard is able to master the spell component of the cure. I want to find someone to work with us to produce it, to make it as widely-available as possible, to all who need it."

Harry was really smiling now.

"Unfortunately, Harry, there is a potential downside to this openness. I expect that I will have to identify Salazar Slytherin as the author of a notebook that suggested both the approach and the details of the potion and spell that I refined in producing the potion, and that will likely mean that I have to identify you as the person who translated the notebook from the original Parseltongue."

Harry recalled a particularly awful few months in his time with the Dursleys when someone sued his Uncle Vernon's company over something called "patent infringement." Harry wasn't sure at the time what was going on, other than the fact that he'd gotten some particularly horrid beatings when his uncle was upset then. He had overheard enough yelling and ranting to figure out that someone claimed that Uncle Vernon's company had stolen some idea that they had patented in producing one of their drills. "Does Salazar Slytherin have a patent or legal claim to the work you did? Will there be a legal problem?" he asked.

"Goodness, no, Harry. First of all, after all this time, no one could assert any protected right to Slytherin's own original work. Second, I did make a few adjustments to his work as I did my tests; I had some ingredients and techniques available to me that were not available in his time, and made some changes to his work myself. I expect to be able to get the patent on this potion in my own name, in any case. But I do anticipate questions that will necessarily involve identifying you and Slytherin."

"If there's no problem with Slytherin's connection to this, what's the problem? I certainly didn't contribute any potions knowledge to this; I just translated a notebook. I really like your idea of making this available to everyone who needs it and can master the spell. When I was translating it, I thought it was a cure for everyone. I still wish that was the case, but even if only some can be cured, it's better than having nothing." Harry still bristled at his reaction to learning how very few magical beings had enough magical power to actually cast spells or do things that he was beginning to take for granted with his own power. However, he'd also never forget the look on Remus' face that Christmas when he heard that there might be a way to stop the transformations. That alone made doing this worthwhile.

"That will be the kind of revelation that will create even more madness."

Harry had to laugh at that. There was so much madness in his world already, really, what's a little more?

X X X X X X X X X X

The madness in Harry's world was swept aside for a short while the very next day. That Sunday was going to be remembered as the day that Neville Longbottom banished a demon in Hogsmeade.


	23. Ch 100 Hostilities Commence

Chapter 100 – Hostilities Commence

Neville visited the greenhouses right after breakfast on Sunday, tending to his special plants and checking provisions for the coming week. He had quite a list going for all manner of supplies; the squibs were not very careful with their tools, or maybe just not quick enough to get away from some of the more aggressive plants. Either way, it was a challenge to keep pruners, hand trowels and gloves in stock. Also, for some reason, there was a sudden drop in the supply of dragon dung pellets. Neville had asked Professor Sprout to order a good quantity just two weeks ago, that should have lasted for at least several months, so this was troubling. He checked the bin where the pellets were stored. It was closed, as it should be, sitting beneath a window that allowed some ventilation between the storage room and the greenhouse it served. As Neville turned to leave, movement caught his eye, and he had his answer to the mystery of the missing dragon dung pellets. A small branch from a doxiebickle tree growing just outside the window was easing in through the window heading toward the bin. Who in their right mind would put a doxiebickle tree so close to a fertilizer bin? They were notorious for getting into any kind of garden food – stealing it from around other plants, emptying containers left too close to them. Actually, they were totally indiscriminate about the kind of food they would grab – Neville was pretty certain one had nicked a scone with clotted cream he'd left on the bench one day, for Merlin's sake! Sure enough, this particular doxiebickle tree was significantly bigger than the others, so it had been gorging on the expensive dragon dung pellets for a while now.

With a sigh, Neville realized that someone had moved this particular plant to a spot that got a bit more afternoon sun, probably not aware of its feeding habits. He levitated the plant, pot and all, an appropriate distance from the window and then he went in search of Professor Sprout to report the situation and discuss the supplies they needed.

The little witch looked up from a pile of essays that she was grading in her office near the Hufflepuff Common Room as he arrived. "Sorry to disturb you, Professor, but we have a bit of a problem in the greenhouses. We are nearly out of hand trowels, down to the last three pruners, and someone moved one of the doxiebickle trees too close to the fertilizer bin, so we're nearly out of dragon dung pellets."

The professor shook her head as she read over Neville's list. "Some of the squibs just aren't getting the hang of backing off as soon as a plant gets upset with you – I'm not surprised. It's too bad about the dragon dung, although I think we can find the funds in the budget to replenish the bin. I'll send an owl to Smithfields in Hogsmeade for what we need."

"We also should get some of the plants we intend to grow on the castle grounds this summer; we need to start planting in the next week, I think. You remember what Smithfield did with our order last year. I'd like to go there myself today, and select what they are to send us."

Professor Sprout looked at Neville with the growing respect that she was feeling for her favorite student. He knew his plants, for sure, but was showing so much more responsibility and maturity lately!

"Right you are, my boy. Sent us the weakest plants I've seen in years, last season. I guess they can't make a mistake when all they need to do is select a trowel or pruner, and they only carry one brand of dragon dung pellet, but trusting those people to choose plants that will actually grow, let alone thrive, is a mistake I won't make twice. Now, I don't want you heading over there on your own. Wait until after lunch, and I'll speak to the Headmaster to make the arrangements."

Albus, who recalled clearly his own disappointment with last summer's turnip harvest, was surprised but quite delighted with Pomona's suggestion that they avert that unpleasant outcome by allowing Neville to handle the Smithfields purchases for the school. He also agreed with his Herbology professor that they had to ask someone to accompany the young man into town. "I would imagine that one of the Winter Lands warriors would be very happy to go with Neville."

Sprout agreed, and added "I saw Charlie Weasley here yesterday; I wonder if he would be willing to go along with Neville, as well."

It turned out that several Winter Lands warriors were quite pleased to accompany their favorite Hogwarts student into town – Neville's success at getting their Winter Lands farms back into production so quickly assured him of the respect and friendship of the warriors. Charlie was also quite willing to take the trip into town. Draco, being a Malfoy, was a bit unsure about a visit to Smithfields for gardening supplies – the Malfoys had staff to attend to things like that, after all. However, he, like most of the students at Hogwarts, was fascinated by the warriors, and there was the added aspect of spending the time with Charlie, so he announced that he was going.

The group that proceeded along the road to Hogsmeade was surprisingly convivial. Charlie could get along with pretty much anyone, and enjoyed the stories told by the warriors about their lives in the Winter Lands. The stories of lives lived so close to the land were appalling to Draco, but he was totally fascinated in general by the massive, rough-looking men who, to Draco's amazement, clearly thought the world of Neville. As usual, Neville was happiest if the conversation was carried by someone else, so Charlie's persistent questions and comments enabled him to enjoy the stories without having to carry his end of a conversation.

"Hello, John," Neville greeted the Smithfields proprietor. "We need a few things in the greenhouses this week, and Professor Sprout agreed it was time to select the plants we'll be planting at the castle." John was quite familiar with Neville as a regular customer, and he had gotten an owl just moments before from Professor Sprout advising that the young man was authorized to select supplies and plants for the school. John also realized that when he was dealing with Neville, he'd better present only top-quality plants, because the boy had an uncanny ability to spot any sign of stress or weakness in even the smallest seedling. John was also a bit wary of his companions on this trip – he'd heard about the massive warriors, but they seldom came into town, and even though John was a solid six feet, he felt seriously dwarfed by the foot-taller Vikings. Even Charlie Weasley was imposing, because the physical effort in dragon taming had given him a physique like that of the warriors, even if he was half a foot shorter. John had seen pictures of the Malfoys in the Daily Prophet and recognized the slender blond immediately; he was wary of that one, but for different reasons.

The list of tools needed was presented, and with a wave of his wand, John had a bin filled with the required items. Arrangements were made for the quantity of dragon dung pellets to be delivered, as John and one of his assistants tittered with sympathy in response to the story of the doxiebickle tree plundering the bin. Finally, the group followed the man into the field behind the store to select the plants that the Hogwarts staff would be planting soon for the coming season.

Neville conducted an impromptu tutorial for his warrior-farmer friends, explaining why he chose one variety or plant over another, what suggested that one plant would thrive where another might struggle, and so on. Draco was bored and wandered off to look at some of the ornamentals, more familiar to him than barleys, cucumbers and strawberry plants.

Charlie already knew a great deal about gardens himself, as the Burrow had an enormous vegetable garden that provided a significant amount of food for the family. Every Weasley child spent time planting, weeding and de-gnoming the garden, either as one of their regular chores or in punishment for some mischief. Some of the plants Neville was looking for would be for potions ingredients, but produce from quite a few of the ones Neville was choosing would eventually find their way into the kitchens at the castle. He joined Draco to admire some magnificent hydrangeas and witch hazels.

A loud rumbling noise brought all conversation to a halt, as everyone turned to look for the source. A scream came from the street on the other side of the store, drawing all attention. John and his assistant started back toward the store, followed by Neville, and then immediately by the warriors and Charlie, just in case there was a problem.

There was a problem, all right. As the small group, now moving at a trot, entered the back of the store, they could see the running and scurrying of the people in town on the street in front through the glass window. People were in full panic, running every which way, adults screaming and children crying in fear. Neville went up to the window to see what was causing the commotion, and his eyes were immediately drawn to a shadowy creature about ten feet tall, with a large gaping mouth with huge teeth. Where one might have expected to see eyes, there was just a glowing redness. Everything was indistinct and blurry, suggesting less a corporeal being than a purely magical one. A demon.

Even the group in the store began to back away, to avoid the creature that was slowly moving down the street, smashing windows, snarling and trying to grab anyone within its reach. The only one who stood calmly was Neville. This was what his Gram had been talking about, teaching him and others how to defeat. He realized with a start that he alone of those with whom he was standing had been taught the spells and magic to banish one of these things. With no further delay, he grabbed his wand from its holster and stepped into the street. He was followed by the warriors, utterly fearless but also utterly defenseless against a creature such as this. Finally, Charlie followed, and deliberately ignoring Charlie's pantomimed instructions that he stay put, Draco joined him.

Neville aimed his wand at the approaching creature and carefully intoned a spell and traced a complicated figure in the air with his wand. A bright light shot from his wand at the demon, and as Neville stood with his face a mask of concentration, the light began to fill the shadows of the demon.

Charlie and Draco instinctively cast a shielding spell to protect Neville and enable him to hold the banishing spell for the time it took to fill the demon with light and banish it from the world. Their magics joined and a very solid shield formed in front of the group. Strain became apparent on Neville's face, as he put every ounce of his magic into the light that was slowly but steadily filling the flailing and screaming demon.

When the light filled the demon completely, it simply disappeared. Its roars gone, the screams and cries of Hogsmeade citizens filled the air. The warriors who had taken up positions to guard Neville, Charlie and Draco, were a bit shocked with the suddenness with which the danger simply disappeared, but they were reluctant to drop their guard in the din that remained after the demon was gone. It took several minutes for people to realize that the demon itself was gone, and only then did some of the noise abate.

John and his staff inched their way out of their storefront. They had witnessed Neville's calm action, and were shocked and relieved when the demon disappeared. Neville himself sagged a bit as he dropped his arm, and Charlie gathered the boy into his arms to be sure he remained upright and safe. John caught Charlie's eye. "Bring the lad back in here, now. Needs a rest, I'm sure. I'll send an owl to the castle right away." Gesturing to one of the assistants just appearing from beneath the counter, John added "Get the lad a cuppa, or maybe a firewhiskey – I'm sure he needs something after that!"

Neville was surprised how tired he felt, and was grateful for the help of Charlie and one of the warriors in getting back into the store, and settled onto an overturned crate. With a mute shake of his head, he declined the offer of a firewhiskey, but nodded with thanks at the offer of a cup of tea, as he got his breath back.

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry had lingered at the table in the Great Hall with the other Gryffindors after lunch.

"I think we should all get ahead on our studies for next week, since we'll be busy in the evenings with Mrs. Longbottom's class and won't have the time to do homework," Hermione proposed. To no one's surprise except her own, she had no takers.

"It's a beautiful day, Hermione. We won't have time this coming week to enjoy the fresh air. Let's go outside – maybe get some flying in, you could bring a book and sit under a tree outside, at least," Ron countered. A consensus grew quickly around that suggestion.

Hermione was tempted to join the group but decided to go off by herself to the library; the quiet would be wonderful and she was sure she'd be able to complete most of the work she'd missed the week before, as well as get a good start on the work that would be covered in the coming week. "Mione, at least be sure to come and join us for lunch later. Don't spend all day locked away in the library," Harry called as she headed off.

The group followed her moments later, but where Hermione had headed up the stairs towards the library, they went out the door of the castle and made their way generally in the direction of the broom storage shed, where school brooms were collected so those interested could join others already in the air over the lawn, as the quidditch pitch was still off-limits. Harry decided against flying. He did not want to go anywhere near the pitch, and the storage shed was right next to it. On a whim, he chose instead to walk along the path down to Hagrid's hut, as he saw a thin plume of smoke curling up from the chimney.

Harry's knock on the front door of the hut went unanswered, so he wandered behind the hut to the garden, where Hagrid managed to grow an assortment of vegetables as bizarre as the animals he tended. Sure enough, the half-giant was kneeling in the dirt as he was planting seeds that were at least as large as Harry's forearm. "Hey, Hagrid, what have you got there? Those are enormous seeds!"

"G'Afternoon, Harry! These are the pumpkins I grow every year. Ya can't expect to get pumpkins the size I do from little bitty seeds, now, do ya? I save these from the biggest pumpkin every year. "

Harry had crouched down beside Hagrid to admire the large seeds. Now that Hagrid said they were pumpkin seeds, Harry did see the resemblance, but he'd certainly never seen any this big before. Hagrid deposited the final few seeds he fished out of a pocket in his coat into a deep hole, and stood as he wiped his muddy hands on his coat. Harry noticed that the coat itself seemed to absorb the mud. "Come on inside. I'm ready for a cup of tea."

Hagrid sat with his huge mug of tea while Harry accepted a glass of water.

"Thanks for taking care of that magical forsythia for Severus, Hagrid. It really upset him that he'd almost created such a problem by bringing that to the school."

"Twas nothin'. I put it far out in the moors, doubt anyone will ever even notice the dead spot out there. What brings you by this beautiful day?"

"Just getting some fresh air, while there's time. Neville went into town this afternoon, and the others were going to go flying out on the lawn. I didn't want to go to Hogsmeade, and didn't feel like heading over to the broom shed, so I thought I'd pay a visit. I haven't seen you for a while."

Hagrid beamed with pleasure that Harry thought to stop by his hut. Harry smiled back. Hagrid was another of the wonderful constants in his life, now that he thought on it. There was something simple, but very wise and powerful about the man. Harry almost did not realize it, but with a start, he noticed that his inner dialog was being shared with the two ravens. He hadn't seen them in a while now, but suddenly, they were sitting with him and to his amusement, they agreed with his observation about Hagrid. As Harry carried on a conversation with the Hogwart's groundskeeper, the ravens listened attentively for a few minutes, but then they began interrupting. They wanted his attention, and had something urgent to share.

Harry's eyes were still focused on Hagrid, but he was actually seeing visions of small demons – at least five of them, all apparently in different places around the globe. They were much, much smaller than the behemoth Elder Demon he'd encountered on the quidditch pitch, but still large and menacing. Harry's breath began to catch, as he tried to process this information and understand what it meant, and more importantly, what he could do about it.

It took a few minutes, but Hagrid eventually realized that Harry was focused elsewhere, and seemed upset with whatever was going on. He did not know what to do. He could handle any creature with confidence and ease, and that included most students at Hogwarts, but the look in Harry's eyes was something he'd never seen and it scared him.

"Harry? Harry? Can you hear me? What's wrong?"

When he got no answer, he grabbed some floo powder from the bowl over the mantle and firecalled the Headmaster's office. "Professor Dumbledore, sir, sorry to intrude, but Harry's down for a visit, and suddenly he's got a very upset look on his face and he's not really part of our conversation any more. I can't seem to get his attention, either, to find out what's bothering him."

The old wizard was immediately concerned. "Bring him to my office, if you will, Hagrid. I'll open the floo for you. Come through right away."

Hagrid gently helped Harry to stand and within seconds, his floo was activated and he pushed Harry through and joined him in the Headmaster's office.

Albus immediately took Harry by the shoulders and bent to look directly into his eyes, a look of worry, but not panic, on his face. "Harry, what's wrong? What are you seeing?" Harry had a positively haunted look on his face, and his normally pale skin was ashen as Albus and Hagrid together guided him to one of the chairs beside the hearth.

Finally Harry responded. "The ravens, sir. They wanted me to see demons, I think I counted five different ones. Much smaller than the Elder Demon, but still big enough to be doing damage, all over the world."

Albus took a deep breath. It appeared that it was beginning. "I see. Do you recognize any of the places where you see these demons?"

Harry closed his eyes to focus, and think. He discovered that he could not call up the visions he'd had at will, and the ravens themselves had gone quiet, although they were still with him. He drew upon his memory, and scoured his recollections of the visions to see if he could respond to the Headmaster's question.

"I'm sorry, sir. I can't make out specifics. One was in what looked like snow, another standing in sand, the others seemed to be in towns or cities."

Albus weighed this information. It would not have been that difficult for Voldemort to have linked up his followers for some basic communications, to coordinate something like this, and it was not too shocking that his followers continued to include witches and wizards with the individual power to summon demons. He was headed toward the floo to contact the Ministry of Magic when the floo flared to life and a face appeared in the green flames. To Albus' great surprise, it was his brother, Alberforth.

"Albus, we've a problem in Hogsmeade. A demon just appeared on High Street, just up from the Hog's Head. I was never much use at demon banishing, but I'm going to head up there to see what I can do now. Maybe there is someone in the castle who is better at this, who could come out here to help."

Typically, Alberforth just ended the floo call by closing the connection. Albus had gotten used to his younger brother's blunt ways years ago, and realized, given the magnitude of what he'd just called to report, this was not the time for social niceties, anyway.

"Hagrid, I'm going to Hogsmeade right now – I am going to open the floo from here to the Hog's Head, and I want you to close it as soon as I've gone through. Then take Harry down to the dungeons, and let Severus know what's happened. He and Harry can speak to Kingsley and get word to the Ministry through him."

As Hagrid nodded his understanding of the Headmaster's orders, Albus was already setting the connection to his floo that would enable him to step right through to Hogsmeade, and stepping into the green flames. Hagrid bustled about, helping Harry up and gently but firmly pulling him along to the moving stairs.

"Now, you heard what the Headmaster said. He can handle what's in Hogsmeade, there's no need for you to do that. We'll find Professor Snape, and he'll help you get word to the Ministry. Come along now."

Severus was in his lab, and his pleasure at seeing Harry back so early was immediately dampened by seeing Hagrid with him, and it was shattered entirely with the explanation of Harry's visions and then Alberforth's message from Hogsmeade.

"Thank you, Hagrid. Harry, are you up to speaking with Shacklebolt right now? We need to get this information to the Ministry immediately, and he'll be able to get this to the right people there fastest."

Harry was calming down a bit, especially now that he had Severus with him, and he nodded. "I'll be alright. Thanks, Hagrid, for helping me."

Hagrid patted Harry on the back in silence, and nodded to Severus, who put a firm and protective arm around Harry's shoulders. Severus took a quick moment to look Harry over, to assure himself that the young man was, indeed, well, before allowing them to walk quickly to Kingsley's office. They were fortunate to find the man there, working his way through the reams of paperwork that had apparently accumulated while he was attending Mrs. Longbottom's class last week. One look at Severus' face told Kingsley that there was a problem.

"It's begun. Harry had a vision moments ago, of demons appearing in various places around the world. Hagrid brought him to Professor Dumbledore's office, and while they were there, a call came in from Hogsmeade that one of the demons was in the town. The Headmaster has gone into Hogsmeade himself to be sure that all is well there, and wishes to be sure that we get word to the Ministry that there appear to be other attacks underway at this time."

Kingsley's face reflected his shock. He was tempted to offer a comment about citizens stepping in to do work better handled by Aurors trained in such matters, his usual retort when told of something like this, but held himself in check. Albus Dumbledore was definitely better able to handle this than any current member of the Auror corps.

"I can't tell you the places where I saw demons from the visions. I think I counted five different demons, in different places – one seemed to be standing in snow, another in sand, and three were in towns or cities. It seems that Hogsmeade must be one of those." Harry offered.

Severus added "We did give the Ministry a list of all who attended Mrs. Longbottom's class these last weeks, so they know who has been trained already to banish demons. If there is a need for someone to assist, anyone who was at the program should be able to step in."

Kingsley went immediately to the floo and placed a firecall to his contact in the Minister's office.

X X X X X X X X X X

Kingsley's contact at the Ministry got his first call about a demon appearing, in London, just minutes before Kingsley's firecall.

A demon had materialized in the heart of Diagon Alley, near Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor and began wreaking havoc in the street. While the damage to property was extensive, the people in the area had immediately escaped down the numerous passages and streets that ran across Diagon Alley, or into stores, most of which had back entrances from streets behind Diagon Alley, so the demon had not actually killed anyone.

Because it was a Sunday, the Ministry contact was able to contact Minister Bones directly to report this news. This enabled her to act immediately, rather than wait while the information was processed through the web of clerks, assistants and aides who would clog the flow of information during the regular work week. She knew that Sirius Black and Remus Lupin had attended the program at Hogwarts, and placed a firecall of her own to the house at Grimmauld Place for their help. Not five minutes after the initial report came into the Ministry, Sirius and Remus were at Diagon Alley.

Kingsley's call alerted them to the fact that there were other incidents. Presumably, the demon in Hogsmeade would be dispatched by someone from Hogwarts, and they were already dealing with the London appearance, but if Harry Potter's interpretation of his vision was correct, at least three other locations were confronted with the same problem, and they might need help. Minister Bones was duly informed of this, as well.

X X X X X X X X X X

Remus had just started his lunch when his afternon was interrupted by a firecall from Amelia Bones.

"Ah, Remus, so glad to find you at home. A problem has come up and I believe I need your help, yours and Sirius', if he's available. We've just gotten a report of a demon appearing in Diagon Alley, right near Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. The Aurors are heading over there, but it's a demon. It's possible that one or two of them read about demon banishing at some point in their training, but it's all theory to them. You two were at Hogwarts for Augusta's program, and I assume you've learned much more about anyone in the Auror corps about this."

Remus did not wait for her to ask for his help. "Sirius is upstairs. I'll get him and we'll be right there. This is exactly the kind of thing that Mrs. Longbottom taught us to handle. I'll keep you informed."

As he ended the conversation with the Minister, Remus was already half out of the kitchen, and he found Sirius in the sitting room.

"Quick, Sirius. I just got a firecall from Amelia Bones – there's a demon in Diagon Alley, near Fortescue's. We're the ones closest to there, who've been trained to banish them. Hurry, we need to get there."

For once, Sirius did not have a clever reply. He got into his jacket and trotted along after Remus down to the floo in the kitchen, and they quickly flooed into the Leaky Cauldron, the public floo closest to Diagon Alley.

Tom the barman was still busy with his midday trade, directing waiters with pots of tea and plates of food off to the travelers and regulars who stopped in for a meal. He barely noticed the two wizards who ran from the floo out the back of the shop, to get through the archway and into the Alley beyond. For their part, it was a relief to realize that news of the peril of the demon in the Alley had not gotten here yet. Everyone was calm as they enjoyed thier food.

The street onto which the archway from the Leaky Cauldron opened was now deserted, so it was actually quite easy to locate the demon from its roars. Sirius and Remus split up, each walking stealthily along opposite sides of the street, in the direction of the noise. There was a bend in the street, and as they made the turn, the demon came into view. It was heading away from them, a massive darkness with many tentacles that were flailing about, shattering windows, sending bricks flying, knocking over lampposts. Remus and Sirius stepped into the middle of the street, for the clearest shot, and with a nod to each other as they stood shoulder to shoulder, they cast their banishing spells in unison, which quickly joined into one spell.

The light from their wands hit the demon right in the middle of its back, and seemed to cause it to stagger. The blast of light definitely caught its attention; the creature seemed to pivot in place and was suddenly facing them.

Sirius later remarked that the only real difference between the front of the demon and its back was a huge, gaping mouth, with sharp, pointy teeth. This demon had not caught anyone yet in Diagon Alley, but it was still apparently filled with screaming souls. Remus and Sirius held their wands firmly in the face of the demon that was now advancing toward them. The light slowly filled in the darkness; nothing either could do would make that happen faster, but Mrs. Longbottom had prepared them for that, so neither panicked. They held the spell even as the creature advanced close enough for them to hear individual screams of the souls inside the demon, and to smell its foul breath, but the light continued to fill the demon. Just when they were tempted to believe that they had waited too long and were about to be consumed by the demon themselves, the light from their spells completely filled the demon. It did not belong in this world, and was now banished, in one blindingly bright flash. The roar and noise also disappeared. The only evidence that a demon had ever been there was the path of destruction that let up to the point where Sirius and Remus now stood.

They dropped their wand hands in unison, and stood on slightly wobbly legs as they got their breath back.

Three Aurors appeared from one of the alleyways, wands drawn, suddenly pointed at Sirius and Remus. "What's going on here?" the senior of the three demanded.

Remus stepped in front of Sirius, fearing that his bondmate's temper would react to the implied accusation and not wanting to have to deal with the aftermath of such a display. "I am Remus Lupin and this is Sirius Black. We are members of the Wizengamot. We got a call from Minister Bones a few minutes ago, advising that a demon had appeared in Diagon Alley. We've been trained to banish demons, so she asked us to assist here."

Slowly, the citizens of Diagon Alley were poking their heads out of windows and around door frames, and a low murmur began to sound. "It's gone! It was right there – I saw it! It was horrible!"

Remus continued to address the Aurors, who still had their wands pointed at him and Sirius.

"We just banished a demon that was summoned here to wreak havoc. You can verify that she asked us to assist with Minister Bones. We would appreciate it if you would lower your wands." Remus delivered that softly, but with all the authority he could muster. The Aurors were still reluctant to do that, lest they appear to be ineffective, but as more and more residents appeared on the street and approached the two possible suspects with awe and expressions of relief and gratitude, they concluded that they had to accept the story as true.

They had just lowered their wands as Remus requested when the Minister for Magic herself arrived. She looked inordinately relieved to see them standing, unharmed, amid the destruction all around. With the briefest of nods to the senior Auror, she said "Remus, Sirius! It's banished? Thank you!" She reached out her hands to shake theirs, joined now by even more residents, thanking them, patting their backs. The Minister tasked her security detail to work with the Aurors to secure the area and arrange for repairs to the damaged buildings and lampposts, while she accompanied Remus and Sirius back to the Ministry.

X X X X X X X X X X

A demon appeared right in the middle of the courtyard that served as a public area of the Egyptian palace at Thebes, scattering dignitaries as well as the common wizarding populace as it roared and thrashed around the courtyard. It was a rather enclosed space, which kept the majority of those in the courtyard in easy reach of the marauding creature while also making it difficult for them to escape. The screams and wails were horrific as the demon found ample opportunity to stuff its gaping maw with unlucky victims. Witches and wizards did their utmost to evade the demon, but the milling crowd in the small space made those efforts less than effective.

The Palace Guard were dispatched immediately, but none of them really understood the nature of the creature they were to oppose, and their traditional defensive measures were no match at all for it. They not only failed to stop the demon, several of them became its victims.

It was clear that the Egyptian wizards and witches were hoping that one among them knew what to do, and would be able to save them. The royal family was in residence in the palace, having assembled to welcome Pharaoh Nitrocris back from her visit to England, and it became clear that they, or those who guarded them, were expected to find a way to deal with this.

Prince Aktenat drew his oldest son, Ramessis, aside for a word. "My son, you are one of the most powerful wizards of your generation, as I am in my generation. It would strengthen your suit to persuade Nitrocris to marry you, and cement your status as a favorite of the people, if you were to be the one to destroy this demon. I will go with you, and we can do this side by side, but I will be sure to give the credit to you."

"Father, that creature is very big. It's already killed members of the Palace Guard. How do you think we can defeat it?"

"We can defeat it because we are the strongest wizards in Egypt. Have no fear, this will be our defining moment!"

The young man followed his father, his look of fear being edged out by his father's exhortations of courage and assurances that they would be fine. With much show, the two took positions at a reasonable distance from the creature, that created the impression of making a brave challenge to the demon while still maintaining some distance. Ramessis followed his father's lead, and the two cast a standard banishing spell.

Nitrocris had been among the women pushed back into the walled area of the palace where she would be safer. She heard what was going on, however, and overheard her aunts discussing the brave stand that Aktenat and Ramessis were taking, to defend the kingdom.

"They don't know what they are up against! They will be killed by the demon!" she cried, as she stood to go herself to the courtyard. She was very confident that the things she'd learned in England would save her people now. Guards stood in her way, to block her, but she would have none of it. "I am the rightful Pharaoh of Egypt – how do you dare to stand in my way like this?" Her imperious bearing and utter determination eventually persuaded the guards to stand aside.

Nitrocris arrived in the courtyard just in time to see her uncle and cousin be devoured by the demon, having stood their ground foolishly after underestimating the speed with which the demon could turn and come after them. All eyes went to her as she entered. Many expected the young woman to collapse in grief, as they had been told for years that she was madly in love with young Ramessis and hoped to marry him soon, and that Aktenat was her very favorite uncle. They were surprised then, when the Pharaoh calmly stood her ground, drew her wand, and cast a very complicated spell. A strong, bright light shot from her wand and began to fill in the shadows that made up the body of the demon. Eyebrows went up when it became clear that this was the first action taken since the demon arrived that actually seemed to have any impact on it. All held their breath as the demon turned toward Nitrocris and prepared to attack her, even as she stood bravely and directed a spell at it that was clearly destroying it.

The light continued to fill the demon, and finally, as all of its shadows were filled with light, it simply winked out of existence, banished from this world. Many let out the breath they did not even know they had been holding, and then, with relief and excitement over the power they had just witnessed, the witches and wizards in the palace began cheering.

True to her word and as expected of the one who wore the crown of Egypt, their Pharaoh had saved them.

X X X X X X X X X X

Back in London, the Daily Prophet was having an absolute field day.

It had a photographer out in Diagon Alley who had captured some terrifying photographs of the demon making its destructive way along that well-travelled road, as well as some very flattering photos of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black casting a joint spell to banish it. While the pictures would likely cause a generation of witches and wizards to have nightmares, they were going to sell newspapers.

There was also a freelance photographer with enough presence of mind to grab his camera in Hogsmeade that day, and enough interest in a career in photography to sell them to the Prophet for a tidy sum. The proximity to Hogwarts had the editor hoping against hope that the "young student from Hogwarts" who banished that demon would be none other than Harry Potter. He was disappointed to learn that the student in question was Neville Longbottom. However, the Research Department found some excellent old articles about Augusta Longbottom, his grandmother, and her exploits in the war against Gellert Grindlewald, and someone with a very good memory recalled a small item from the Ministry about a program the old woman was presenting at Hogwarts. That was expanded into quite an article, to accompany other nightmare-inducing photo of a demon being banished.

The Ministry had gotten word from a number of places around the world reporting attacks by demons, all of which were eventually banished. The mid-level Ministry worker who was always willing to sell some news to the Prophet leaked that information. A demon had terrorized the magical community in an unplottable section of Agra in Uttar Pradesh, India, as well as the magical population of Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan in Canada, and the royal palace at Thebes in Egypt. There was perhaps a bit more interest in that last among those at Hogwarts, but all in all, the witches and wizards who had studied at Hogwarts under Mrs. Longbottom acquitted themselves very well that Sunday.

X X X X X X X X X X

In Riddle Manor, Voldemort had been in an exuberant mood all day. He'd finally been able to reach out to enough of his former Death Eaters who remained loyal to him and dedicated to his vision to organize an effective attack. They had met and discussed what they would do, and then each carried a spelled butterbeer cap that would vibrate when Voldemort determined that it was time for them to summon their demons.

Voldemort recalled fondly his conversation with Harry Potter at the Calling, and he meant, most sincerely, his comments to Harry about the world always killing its kings. He knew now that Harry could banish a demon; the boy demonstrated that well enough with the massive Elder Demon he'd sent to the quidditch pitch at Hogwarts. The King's Banishment would take care of pretty much anything that was not really part of this world, even a millennia-old Elder Demon. However, only Harry could use that spell. Even your run-of-the-mill demons, the kind one of his allies would be able to summon on his or her own, would not be impacted by a regular banishing spell, and there were extremely few wizards who ever mastered and were strong enough to deliver the other kinds of spells that could banish a demon.

Voldemort smiled as he imagined the kind of day Harry must have had. First, he had to attend to matters in Hogsmeade, and then there was a crisis in London, and then in far-away Agra, and in Thebes and in Moose Jaw. Even the Boy Who Lived could not keep up with that sort of massive drain on his powers, both from the travel necessary to reach those far-flung places, and then the power needed to cast the King's Banishment. If the boy survived today, being called to defend everyone in the wizarding world, he would not survive too many more of them, and Voldemort could have another complement of demons summoned in a couple of days.

His one regret, as he savored the reports that demons had been summoned among the magical populaces in five far-flung communities, was that he did not have the people by his side who always understood the magnitude of his achievements, whose praise was based on their own superior understanding and recognition of his brilliant strategies and plans. The loss of Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy from among his comrades galled the most. They were nearly his equals in terms of their ability to see the big picture. He really missed their comments and insights, not that he'd ever let anyone know. Bellatrix Lestrange was another he missed. She had no particular understanding of anything, but she was as strong as any wizard and her devotion was utterly total, and Voldemort did enjoy her unconditional admiration. Unfortunately, he'd thought it would be pleasant to have her by his side as he cast his sleeping spell, and she was among those who did not survive the experience.

He pushed those maudlin thoughts aside – he'd accomplished much today, coordinating a series of global attacks, and giving Potter a chance to see just how needy and dependent most witches and wizards were. His sense of obligation and duty would do him in.

Fortunately for all who were in Riddle Manor that afternoon, Voldemort was too busy savoring his perceived victory to read the afternoon edition of the Daily Prophet, which noted that all the demons had been banished, by witches and wizards other than Harry Potter.

X X X X X X X X X X

Back at Hogwarts, that evening, Severus held Harry tight as they lay in bed. Harry had been beside himself after sharing news of his vision with Albus, and learning of the attack in Hogsmeade, and that was just the first of it.

Albus returned to the castle with Neville, Charlie and Draco, to the great relief of all and the total amazement of many that it was Neville who saved the day. The Gryffindors were even more excited, obnoxiously excited as Severus observed, about Neville than they usually got over Harry. Harry smiled to himself at the thought that probably no one but Hermione had detected his efforts to keep the focus on the usually-shy man, who was really blossoming now.

He was not really surprised that Minister Bones had reached out for help in London from Sirius and Remus, and he was certainly confident of their ability to hold their own, even against a demon, but it was still upsetting and nerve-wracking to learn that to people so close to him had gone into such a dangerous situation. He'd only met the foreign wizards at the program, but of course had spent more time with Nitrocris, another witch called upon to save the day.

Severus had clearly been concerned about telling him all that was going on, and he'd even winced when Harry demanded that he be told of any fatalities, of which there were actually surprisingly few. Harry was initially very concerned about what had gone on in Egypt, although from what Hermione had told him, it was entirely likely that Nitrocris was prevented from defending her people for part of the while that the demon was loose. Hermione was particularly quick to point out that Nitrocris had shared many stories during her two weeks at Hogwarts about her uncles and their efforts to usurp her powers. Harry had been horrified to learn that the uncle he'd met at Hogwarts when she arrived was among the dead, but Hermione reminded him that the uncle was perhaps the most vocal of Nitrocris' enemies in Egypt.

It had seemed that the day would never end, and when at last Albus had shared the news from the Ministry that all appeared to be well, Harry felt as if he'd been wrung out.

Harry did not object at all when Severus suggested that they ask the house elves to bring them plates for dinner in their rooms, and he felt nothing but appreciation for Severus' suggestion that they enjoy a nice soak in the tub before bedtime. He nearly melted into the bed when Severus ended the bath with a massage as they floated in the tub, which he finished as he dried Harry off as they prepared for bed.

As Severus climbed into bed beside an almost-asleep Harry, he was surprised that Harry had enough energy left to slide over and put his head on Severus' chest, murmuring that the sound of Severus' heartbeat was the most calming thing in the world to him.


	24. Ch 101 First Signs of the Future

Chapter 101 – First Signs of the Future

Harry seldom dreamed, the way other people do. He frequently had terrible nightmares, reliving the events when others lost their lives, experiencing over and over the horror, fright and frustration of each battle and attack. With Severus' Dreamless Sleep, he slept through the night with no dreams at all. Lately, though, Harry had begun to fall asleep with Severus without taking Dreamless Sleep and was usually able to sleep through the night without nightmares. He suspected that Severus' magic kept the nightmares at bay; he always felt safer and more secure when he slept in Severus' arms or with his head pressed against the man's chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

Sunday night was such a night. Harry slept soundly and comfortably for most of the night, but he did have a dream. He thought it was a dream, anyway. It wasn't pleasant, but at least it did not invoke the full-on terror of some of his dreams.

The ravens came to him again. He was watching a battle, of that he was sure, but he had a hard time figuring out who was fighting whom. He knew that wizards and magic were involved because of the weaponry: arrows flew through the sky, he saw trebuchets in the field and saw them used to hurl large stones and boulders, and occasionally, he spotted the streams of light that were shot out of wands as spells were cast. It was noisy, confusing and frustrating because he could not make out any details. He wasn't even sure that all the combatants were witches or wizards – were they muggles? Or even human? He sensed that the ravens were trying to tell him secrets again, but he could not hear them, or understand what they were saying.

It was always hard to say later how long a dream lasted. The dream eventually ended, and Harry returned to undisturbed sleep, although when he awoke, he was surprised that he could recall the dream vividly.

Severus was already up and dressed by the time Harry awoke, and he quickly went through his morning routine before joining Severus in the sitting room. Severus was sitting with a cup of tea by the fireplace, and looked up from the journal he was reading as Harry entered.

"Sleep well?" he inquired, with a tone of voice that suggested that he really did want to know.

"I had a dream, or a vision, again, Severus." Harry confided, immediately regretting having said so when he saw the look of alarm on his bondmate's face. "Nothing horrible, I don't even understand it. I saw a battle on a big field. I could not see any details, I don't know who was involved in the battle or where it was being fought. I saw arrows flying, and stones and boulders shot from trebuchets, and the light of spells being cast, so I know this has something to do with magic, but . . . ."

Severus rose immediately, relief on his face, and enveloped Harry in a hug, gently stroking the smaller man across his back. "I would like to inform the Headmaster, Harry, if that is agreeable with you. We have to take your visions seriously, even if we don't yet understand them. You clearly have some link or access to a source of information that can help us. Albus has the broadest view of the world and world events. Do you agree? Is this how it started before?"

Harry considered that. "If this does tell us useful information, I suspect the Headmaster will be the first to see what it means, so of course, tell him. To an extent, I suppose this is how things started before. There are some vague images at first, and things get clearer over time."

Severus nodded his understanding. "I will inform the Headmaster at breakfast. Are you ready to go?" As Harry nodded, Severus helped him into his cloak as the two prepared to head to the Great Hall for breakfast.

The entire school was still abuzz with the news from Sunday's events, with everyone poring over and commenting upon the morning's edition of the Daily Prophet, which featured expanded coverage of the events in Hogsmeade and London, as well as more extensive coverage at events in the foreign cities. Harry was secretly pleased to see that Neville remained very much the center of attention, and seemed to be more comfortable with the role than he'd ever been before. Draco, now sitting at the Slytherin table as Charlie was at the Head Table, was also quite the focus of attention amid his House mates, sharing over and over the details of the attack and his role (which expanded slightly with each telling) in repelling the demon in Hogsmeade.

Hermione was studying Harry's face. "Are you alright, Harry? You look, I don't know, a bit edgy this morning. Is something wrong?"

Harry smiled – whoever ended up married to Hermione was not going to have any secrets, that was for sure. "I'm fine, Hermione. Just had a dream last night, that's all."

Considering that she was the one among his Gryffindor friends who had not spent five years sleeping in the same room with him, it was further tribute to her absolutely frightening powers of perception that she was the only one who realized how odd that statement was, given his usual sleep problems. "Are you not taking Dreamless Sleep any longer, Harry?" she inquired very softly.

"I don't seem to need it every night anymore." Anticipating her next question, he continued "I don't have nightmares so much anymore either, so it's not always a disaster if I forget to take the Dreamless Sleep. It was just a dream."

That was not nearly enough detail for her, and her expression made it clear that Harry was NOT done with his story. As the conversation was bubbling all around them about yesterday's events, he was able to speak softly to her and have some privacy, so he continued. "I saw the ravens again. They showed me a big battle, but I could not make out any details. Severus is telling the Headmaster, but it was such a vague image that I can't see it being of much help."

She nodded her approval of the steps they were taking, as she patted Harry's arm. "That's the right thing to do, let the Headmaster know. If it connects to anything else going on, he'll figure that out fastest."

X X X X X X X X X

Albus told Severus that he would be free to meet with him right after lunch, conveniently at a time that Severus did not have a class.

They settled into chairs by the fireplace, each with a cup of tea, and Albus with a plate of lemon drops. "Is something bothering you, my boy?" the older wizard inquired.

"It's Harry," Severus began. "He had a vision last night, a dream. The ravens came to him, and showed him a battle. He said it was vague – he could tell it was a battle, and saw enough to be sure magic was involved, but he could neither see who was fighting, where they were fighting, any details at all. That was all he could recall, although he said it was very uncommon for him to even remember dreams."

Albus considered that, and nodded. "How did the visions work the first time?"

"In a similar manner, as I understand from him. Very vague at first, with more details becoming clear as time passes. He said this was the first time he'd had this dream or vision, and he had very little detail."

"Well then, my boy, I think we have to wait and see. If he does see anything more specific, let me know immediately. For now, there does not appear to be anything we can do about this."

Albus took a sip of his tea, and popped a lemon drop into his mouth, savoring the sharp tang and sweetness. "There is something I'd like to discuss with you, though, Severus. A conversation I had with Minister Bones that might be of interest to you."

Severus looked a bit ill at ease – matters involving the Ministry were seldom pleasant, in his experience.

"The Minister has a group of her more senior, seasoned, advisors starting to think about the future of the relationship between the magical and muggle worlds, given these recent events. Assuming that we are able to preserve a world with muggles in it, will we be able to maintain the veil of secrecy we've enjoyed? There are going to be changes to the world that the muggles can't be expected to ignore. The physical changes will be obvious, but they're such bright and inquisitive creatures, they'll know almost instantly that some months disappeared from their lives. And then there are the squibs. We've always had squibs, but the ones who knew about the magical world were born into it. Now, thousands of people who were living in the muggle world and totally unaware of their magic have learned about us. I haven't heard any proposals or conclusions from the Ministry yet, but wanted you to know that they are thinking about this."

"Thank you, Headmaster. I don't want to bring this to Harry's attention myself right now, but would not rule out that he'll wonder about this at some point, or Miss Granger will worry and speak to him about it. I'll brief him then. I assume that's acceptable to you?" Severus asked.

Albus had smiled at the reference to Hermione. The girl was a never-ending stream of surprises; she missed nothing. He nodded to Severus. Just as Severus himself was about to stand to depart, he recalled that he did have one other thing to mention to the Headmaster.

"I received an owl from the Potions Masters Guild. They are nearly done with their brewing of the lycanthropy potion I submitted." Severus acknowledged Albus' look of surprise at that statement with a sneer and a nod. "I know, record-breaking speed for them. They wish me to meet with them at the Ministry as soon as possible, as they have a few questions. Of course, the potions will need to age at least eight weeks before it can actually be tested, and it will need to be tested before they are willing to recognize my potion as part of a potential treatment for lycanthropy, in some cases. I discussed this with Harry, as I fully expect there to be questions about the source material, and I would have to mention Harry's translation of Slytherin's notebook. He's perfectly fine with me mentioning his role."

"Ah, but I see your reluctance, Severus! We don't want to have to disclose the existence of the Chamber of Secrets or go into too much detail."

"Exactly, Albus. I've been thinking this over, and was considering saying that Harry Potter had discovered Salazar Slytherin's lost private library and we've moved all the books to warded storage in the castle, for preservation and research. Among the books were notebooks made by Salazar on all manner of topics, one of which discussed his thoughts on lycanthropy and a treatment he had devised. Harry translated that volume from the original Parseltongue and made a gift of the translation to me, and I've used it as the base of my own research to develop the potion I submitted."

"That sounds fair. If my understanding of the laws of both magical and muggle England regarding treasure trove is correct, Harry became the owner of the books when he discovered them. It is possible, I suppose, that Hogwarts might have a claim since the library was within the castle, albeit in an unplottable and unreachable place, unless one spoke Parsetongue. However, he's given us the books, so that's really not an issue. In any case, his translation of the work is beyond doubt his own, so the gift to you cannot be challenged. If you have any concern about that, we can consult our solicitor, to be sure," Albus offered.

"No, no, I'm very sure about the legality of my claim to the potion I submitted," Severus replied. "It's actually my goal in going through this process to be able to get the potion produced and put into use in those cases where the afflicted individual can manage the spell component of the cure. I was more concerned about your thoughts on how much to disclose about Salazar's library and notebooks."

Albus nodded in understanding. "Well, I think your approach is just fine. If there are questions about the location of the library or the current ownership of the books, you can defer to me. If they want to speak to me, I'll either meet with them then, or we'll arrange for a meeting in the future. Either way, I'd much prefer that you not head over to the Ministry, given what went on yesterday. You can explain to the Guild Master that I wish to maintain adequate safety precautions here at Hogwarts, and right now, you are one of just a few people in the castle who have completed Augusta's training; if I need you, it's best if you are here rather than in London. Why not propose that they come through the floo in the Ministry Annex in the lobby – I'm sure it's got direct access set up to a Ministry office, and I'm sure Kingsley will accommodate them. I'll have the house elves create a conference room down there for your use, so there is minimal disruption to the school."

Severus stood as he nodded to Albus. "As you wish, Headmaster. I shall owl them immediately, and propose that we meet here tomorrow afternoon." With an impressive sweep of black teaching robes, Severus headed toward the lobby and the revolving stairs.

Albus looked after Severus as he left, his eyes twinkling madly. He was very pleased, very pleased indeed, with the decision to have the Potion Masters Guild review the potion, and that both Severus and Harry were willing to go through this process for such an altruistic purpose was wonderful. He'd also caught Severus' shining hair swinging as he swirled out the door, and reflected on yet another positive aspect of the relationship between his two favorite wizards.

X X X X X X X X X X

Not a soul who had signed up to be in Mrs. Longbottom's class failed to show up, right on time, if not a few minutes early, and everyone was excited about it. She dove right in to her curriculum, and could not have asked for a more serious, attentive audience. She managed to make mention of the fact that members of her first class were the ones who banished the five demons that appeared around the world the day before at least half a dozen times in the first session, but everyone was so fired up about the class that no one took her to task. At least a few realized that she was bursting with pride about her grandson, and were willing to let her brag a bit.

The stories about how difficult some of the work was turned out to be true. The walls of the castle took another beating from the miscast spells. Many Hogwarts students ended up losing hours of sleep during her program, because they had to keep up with their regular studies and prepare for her classes.

On top of all of that, the Introduction to Magic programs began to run on Wednesday evenings. At first, Professors Dumbledore and Sprout felt that there would be no conflict between Mrs. Longbottom's class and the squib program, so they overlapped. When Harry heard about the schedule, he approached the Headmaster about having Mrs. Longbottom start her Wednesday class earlier, so people could attend both.

"This past Christmas, at the Weasleys, I learned things about the wizarding world that I'd never imagined, and I've been living in this world at least during the school year for over five years. Remus was fantastic, but everyone who grew up in the magical world shared insights. I'm sure the speakers that are going to present will do at least as good a job, and I really don't want to miss this."

Albus had never imagined that anyone with magic, who was already attending Hogwarts, would have any interest in a program that was so basic, but of course, once Harry decided to attend, all the muggle-borns and a fair percentage of those born and raised in the magical world also wanted to be there. At least, that program could be held in the Great Hall and was not going to damage the building. He spoke with Augusta who was a bit put out, but when Albus dropped Harry's name, she came around and agreed to end her Wednesday evening program in time for anyone who wanted to go to the squib program to do so.

Severus was curious himself about Harry's interest, and broached the subject Tuesday evening. "I have not seen the agenda itself, but Harry, this is really for people who just learned some weeks ago that this world exists and they are a small part of it. Why on earth do you want to go?"

"Do you remember our discussion about things a five-year old wizard would learn in his mother's kitchen?" To his embarrassment, Severus did recall that.

"It's pretty much assumed that people coming to Hogwarts have a certain basic knowledge about the magical world. If you are new to magic, you pick up what you can as quickly as you can, but there's always something you miss. I was so amazed with the things I learned when Remus and you were explaining things to the Grangers at Christmas. This is going to be like that, I hear. Different people with different areas of expertise will be speaking at the most basic level about all sorts of things. I might have learned some of these things by now, but I'll bet that there is lots I've not picked up, and this is my chance to learn."

Severus nodded in reply, and had to admit to himself that one of the outcomes of the discussion to which Harry referred was his own realization Hogwarts probably did need two Muggle Studies programs, with a better one to introduce muggle-borns to the magical world. This sounded like the basis of the course he'd intended to propose for the Hogwarts curriculum itself. He started to think that he should plan to attend the program himself, to evaluate the contents of a regular course on the subject.

"Oh, I wanted to tell you – I met with the Potion Masters Guild this afternoon. The Headmaster asked that I not leave the castle, so they flooed to Hogwarts through the Ministry Annex office here."

Harry smiled at that – he could not agree with the Headmaster more about keeping Severus out of the Ministry! "How did it go?"

"Better than I might have expected," Severus allowed, smiling as he reflected back on the two-hour meeting.

The formalities of greeting each arrival, from Master Dorester, to the six Potions Masters who had been names to the Brewing Jury, to sundry officials of the Guild such as Andre Serrent, Elliott Dorester's assistant serving as its secretary, took time, as Severus knew all of them and was expected to exchange at least a few personal pleasantries with each.

Severus welcomed them in Kingsley's office, wearing his everyday teaching robes, rather than changing to the kind of clothing he would have worn to the Ministry. He noticed with a small smirk how they each noticed, and reacted to, the evidence that Severus' chosen career was that of a school teacher. He directed them to the just-created room that was now located off the Ministry Annex, in which a large and highly-polished mahogany table was surrounded by comfortable leather armchairs. The group reacted to this, as well; no one expected to see such fine furniture in a school, or in a Ministry office for that matter.

As the members of the group were selecting seats and getting comfortable, there was a further surprise. Lucius Malfoy and Lord Volpine followed the group through the floo, and indicated that they wished to observe the proceedings. Severus greeted them as cordially as he had the others, and pointed them to chairs at the end of the table, but he was very curious as to their interest in this gathering.

When the meeting finally began, Master Dorester explained the formalities, for the record. As Severus knew, the Guild's review process had two objectives: the Guild must verify the claimed benefit or purpose for using a particular potion, and that the formula for the potion produced repeatable results. In this case, it was already a matter of public record that Remus Lupin had been cured of lycanthropy after, per his own testimony, ingesting the potion brewed by Severus, and performing certain spells. Severus assumed that the point of the meeting today was to answer questions from the Brewing Jury, the Potions Masters tasked with working from the notes that Severus had provided to Master Dorester as Remus' hearing at the Ministry several weeks ago to recreate the potion Severus had brewed.

"I have invited this group of six Potions Masters to serve on the Brewing Jury and replicate the potion from your notes, Lord Snape. I assume introductions are not necessary, but will note their names for the record: Ewan McCorquedale, Walter Mason, Philomena Mills, Warren Wren, Mabel Bitterson and Chester Coleman." Each nodded as their name was read, and Severus returned the nods, but he groaned inwardly at the name of Chester Coleman.

Whenever Severus worked on a potion that he would have to teach to his students, he had long ago developed the habit of identifying the place or places in the process that the idiots brewing the potion would make a mistake. Even fairly simple potions had their "idiot point," as Neville Longbottom had proved time and again. This was by far the most complicated potion he'd ever brewed, and it had at least half a dozen "idiot points." Severus would wager that Chester had stumbled into every single one of them. He and Chester had taken their Mastery program at the same time, although while Severus studied under Master Dorester, Chester was studying under another Master, Abner Galeson. The two Masters collaborated at times, so it was natural that their students would come to know one another and even work together. It was one of the great mysteries to Severus as to how on earth Chester was granted Mastery – in Severus' opinion, the man truly was an idiot.

"Thank you, Master Dorester," Severus replied, "I assume that the Brewing Jury has begun the process of brewing now, and the members are possibly at the point where their potions must mature for a time?" The older man nodded. "Are there any specific questions about the brewing process? No one could have actually tested the potion yet, as it needs at least two months after the brewing process is completed to mature and ripen."

A sheaf of parchments was handed over to Severus. They were the brewing notes of each member of the jury, reciting what they did and the results they achieved at each step. Five were picture-perfect replications of Severus' brewing experience and the formula he provided to Master Dorester. There was every reason to expect that those potions, when ready, would produce exactly the result Severus' original potion had produced. The sixth potion, being brewed by Chester Coleman, was likely to turn to sludge, if it did not cause a cauldron to explode beforehand.

Nodding to the five competent jury members, Severus commented "I believe you have each replicated the potion I presented for your consideration, and I predict the potions will work exactly as mine did. Lord Coleman, I fear that you have not quite replicated my potion exactly as it was written. I see here that after the third step, your potion was a deep crimson, not the lime green it should have been. The third step is very important, because the careful addition of the exact amount of carefully slivered salamander tongue at the precisely-timed moment, with the requisite number of stirs both clockwise and counterclockwise, are vital steps in checking the acidity of the potion at that point. The lime green color signals that the acidity has been reduced appropriately. A crimson color at that point is caused by the potion retaining far too much acidity, most likely from either improperly prepared salamander tongue, or not following the instructions about adding it."

Severus went through Chester's notes, stopping at each "idiot point," where Chester had made exactly the mistake Severus would have predicted, with exactly the wrong outcome in the potion. Where each competent brewer now had a crystal clear potion that almost looked like spring water in a stoppered bottle sitting in a dark cabinet for two months, Chester had a bright orange, opaque substance that was closer to the consistency of cake batter.

Master Dorester cast a very disappointed look at Chester, as he took back the parchments that Severus had been reviewing. "I apologize, Severus. I always work with a jury of six, because the Guild rules require that the potion be replicated by at least five Masters in order to be approved. Lord Coleman, we'll review your potion and these notes in detail back at the Guild offices." He handed the sheaf to Andre, who placed them into a large envelope.

Philomena Mills, a witch several years younger than Severus who was making quite a name for herself in theoretical potions, had a question. "Lord Snape, if I may, I am most curious as to what suggested this approach, and the very unconventional combination of a potion and an animagus transformation spell."

This was the question Severus had been expecting all along, and he was surprised that the meeting was over an hour old before it came up.

"Mistress Mills, I have access to some ancient books, a thousand years old, only recently translated for me. These records were made by someone who was aware of the initial accident that created the first werewolf. As he knew what that wizard had wanted to do, and knew the steps he took to accomplish his objective, his account provided very rare insight into the condition. The writer had considered what went wrong with the experiment that created the first werewolf, suggested steps that could be taken to undo the results of the accident, and in the process, accomplish the original objective."

Madam Mills looked completely puzzled by that explanation, as did everyone else in the room. Severus smiled, and offered " Allow me to begin at the beginning."

Severus proceeded to tell of the wizard long ago who wished to transform as an animagus into a magical creature. He told of how this wizard had theorized a potion that would enable him to maintain the connection between his mind and his magical core as he did so, and of the errors he made: use of several plants with lunar properties in the potion and his own insufficient magical strength to successfully cast the spell component. He told of the eventual success achieved by the author of the book, with a modified potion, used with stronger wizards. "The records of this potion were lost to history until recently, when the ancient text was discovered and translated. Additionally, some of the ingredients and techniques in potion brewing are very different now from what was common a thousand years ago, so I had to completely modernize the old formula and the techniques involved for use in our age. For that reason, this is to be regarded as an original formula and was not submitted to you as an adaptation of an existing potion."

That technically answered her question fully, although Severus knew that there was at least one inevitable follow-up question, and he wondered who would voice it. He was surprised, given the company, that it was Andre who spoke next.

"Lord Snape, may we be informed as to the identity of his long-forgotten wizard, how his book came to be found recently, and who translated it?"

Severus smiled to himself at the opening Andre had given him. "Master Serrent, the wizard whose book was found is far from forgotten. Salazar Slytherin is one of the founders of Hogwarts, and one of its Houses still bears his name. His personal library was hidden by wards and charms within the castle that only a Parselmouth could penetrate. While there have been a number of individuals with that ability at the school over the centuries, only two that I know of ever found his library and perused his books. Most recently, Harry Potter located the library and presented its contents to the school for study and preservation. He is the one who found some ancient texts and provided me with a gift of the translation of one in which Salazar wrote about lycanthropy. Salazar wrote his notes in Parseltongue, hence the need for translation."

The room erupted as Severus sat calmly with a small smirk on his face, picking a piece of lint off the sleeve of his black robe, as he waited for the hubbub to abate. Fortunately, all the questions that were posed at that point were ones that he and Albus had agreed would be referred to the Headmaster, so the remainder of Severus' interview proceeded quickly. At this point, he estimated that the five competently-brewed potions needed about six more weeks to age and mature, so he expected that there would be an additional meeting at that time to discuss actually testing these potions. To his surprise, Lord Volpine rose to speak before the group disbanded.

"Lord Malfoy and I have interest in beginning commercial production of this potion as soon as it has approval from the Potions Masters Guild. We will be discussing licensing arrangements with Lord Snape in due course. However, I wish to volunteer for the testing, when it is time to test the potions that the esteemed members of the Brewing Jury have created."

That answered an open issue. There were only a few known werewolves, because most afflicted with lycanthropy tended not to make that fact general knowledge. It could have been difficult to find someone willing to step forward and identify themselves as a werewolf, given the numerous restrictions and limitations, let alone the discrimination that society allowed against werewolves. Lord Volpine's offer assured them that the next phase of the review would proceed without delay.

As the members of the Potions Masters Guild returned through the floo to their offices at the Ministry in London, Severus expressed his thanks to Lord Volpine, and with surprise evident on his face, to Lucius.

"I am very pleased at your plan to begin commercial production of the potion, but must warn you, Lord Potter and I have discussed this, and he is most anxious to see this become widely available to all who need it, without great cost."

Severus expected that Lucius' interest would ebb, once that condition was made known, but the haughty voice assured him, "That is our goal as well, Lord Snape."

When Severus shared this story with Harry on Tuesday evening, he'd almost wished the younger man had attended the meeting, as he peppered Severus with questions and comments about who asked what, and how everyone reacted. Harry's final comment was about Lucius. "I told you, Severus, he's changed; he's on a new path and he's not going to stray from it."

Severus still looked unsure about that, but Harry was undeterred. "Really, Severus, I am as sure of that as I am of the fact that I missed you today." The young man's eyes glowed with pride and determination, as he pulled Severus up from his seat on the couch and drew his face down toward him for a surprisingly passionate kiss.

X X X X X X X X X X

As the Aurors who'd flooed in for Mrs. Longbottom's program left a bit earlier than expected that first Wednesday headed out of the classroom, Maxwell Darmut sidled up to Kingsley Shacklebolt. "Why on earth are we ending this class early tonight? The people in this class are among the most powerful witches and wizards in England; what could anyone in this class possibly hope to learn in a squib class?"

Kingsley smiled at his colleague. "This is Mr. Potter's doing. He's the one who wants to go to that other class. The boy was muggle-raised, you know. Knew nothing of this world until his Hogwarts letter was delivered, and he wants to learn more about the day-to-day aspects of magic."

Darmut processed that and decided to stop in, as well. He knew his wife would be fascinated by anything involving Potter, so she wouldn't mind his not taking advantage of the chance to be home a few minutes earlier.

Petunia Dursley was sitting off to the side, by herself. She felt lonely, especially when she saw some squibs arriving to warm greetings from students, and one couple, after being welcomed by one of the students, was even welcomed as if they were old friends by some of the faculty here! Petunia herself felt obligated to attend, because Amaranth Savoy had been so nice to her, and had worked so hard on the program. She had no interest in learning about this world, really, as she planned to return to her old, normal world as soon as Vernon and Dudley were awake and able to leave. However, this meant so very much to Amaranth, and she felt she owed it to the young woman to be there to show her support.

Petunia was dismayed to see the people who stood to deliver little presentations – she'd had run-ins with a significant number of them. That nasty Molly, whose husband assaulted her in the lobby, was the first to speak. Petunia sulked as she sat there, and heard only part of the things Molly talked about, although she had to admit, reluctantly, that some of the demonstrations the woman provided of magical homekeeping were quite interesting. The strange man who was the head of this place spoke, as well. He definitely seemed loopy, to use a term her Vernon favored. There was a presentation by a ghost, for goodness sake! Petunia could not wait to get out of there when the session finally ended for the evening.

Nearer to the front of the room, Harry had taken a seat next to the other royal Harry, and his older brother, who had come back to Hogwarts from work they'd been doing at the Ministry. The magical Harry greeted the two. "Nice to see you both back here. What have you been doing at the Ministry? Something interesting?"

The older brother spoke first. "Yeah, they've got us working on identifying muggle installations that need to be preserved or restored. We spend lots of time meeting with squibs who have technical skills, to be sure they understand what we need them to do. The wizards realized that the squibs recognize us, so it's lots faster if we have the conversations."

Magical Harry nodded his agreement. "Some of those Ministry types are very controlling, so it must gall them that they have to rely on you to get things done."

The other Harry offered "Well, we've had training ourselves in the muggle military and schools, so we do know things from the muggle perspective that wizards don't understand. You're right – there were a few who seemed very upset at the beginning, but they've gradually gotten used to it." He suddenly realized who he was speaking to, at a squib program. "What on earth are you doing at the Introduction to Magic, Harry?"

"I'm muggle-raised, so I never learned all the things a magical child learns growing up. I've picked up some things here and there in the years I've known I was a wizard, mostly here at school, but there's loads of stuff that's just assumed that you know. I've been embarrassed several times over things I'd just never learned. When I heard about this, I knew I wanted to be here. You'll be back each week, won't you?"

"Wouldn't miss it! My brother and I have talked about some of the things we've seen, and we agreed that even if we went back to our old lives knowing nothing more than what we've seen of the magical world ourselves, this would have been fascinating. But the chance to learn more about this world is too good to pass up."

"Good to see you, then, and I'll see you next week," magical Harry offered as he bid the brothers goodbye and set off for the dungeons. It had been a long day.

The next day, the squib gossip network was abuzz with the fact that both of the young princes had attended the program at Hogwarts. From that moment forward, any squib who had been invited but decided against bothering to go back to Hogwarts for the program was not going to miss the remaining sessions. Likewise, word spread through the wizarding world that Harry Potter had attended the program, as well. Access to Hogwarts at midweek was difficult to arrange, but on Wednesdays, even the most tenuous reason to be at Hogwarts was used as an excuse to get permission to visit. As a result, the following Wednesday evening, all of the members of Mrs. Longbottom's class repaired to the squib program, and they joined a throng of squibs, and friends and family of presenters, students and others. Attendance had easily tripled over the last week.

Petunia sat further back this time, and found herself seated next to a pompous-looking man in the odd clothes favored by this crowd, although his clothes were of fine material and very well tailored. He reminded her a bit of that young man, Eustace, in that regard. They were both seated several minutes before the program was scheduled to begin, and struck up a conversation.

The gentleman nodded at Petunia and extended his hand. "Madam, I do not believe we've met. Permit me to introduce myself. Thurston Landon. My son, Eustace, will be presenting at this session, and I've come to show the boy some morale support."

Petunia smiled, pleased with herself for being right in seeing a connection between this older man and Eustace, and charmed in general at the old-world approach to an introduction. "Mrs. Petunia Dursley, Mr. Landon. I'm staying in the castle, and have worked with Amaranth Savoy on this program, so I'm here to show her support for all the hard work she's done. I believe I've met your son, Eustace. He may be a friend of Mrs. Savoy's brother – he stopped at our table one day at lunch to say hello, and she introduced us. Lovely young man."

A few moments of idle chatter followed, but that was cut short as the program began. Eustace was indeed one of the speakers, as were a few professors from the school. Petunia might have enjoyed a few more minutes of conversation with Mr. Landon, but he had to meet up with his son as soon as the program ended, so she waved goodbye to him as he pushed his way through the surprisingly large crowd toward the front, where the speakers had congregated.


	25. Ch 102 Lessons Unfolding

Chapter 102

Severus had most of his evenings to himself during the time that Harry attended Mrs. Longbottom's program, and he realized with a start how much things had changed in the past months. There was a time, not all that long ago, where long evenings to himself were totally enjoyable to Severus, but now, to his amazement, he missed having Harry around. Of course, he was no Hufflepuff about it – he used those evening very productively, but still. He was really taken aback by how much he missed Harry.

After he'd graded each day's essays, and supervised any detentions, he always had a few hours that he could spend in his lab before Harry returned. Severus spent those hours working his way through Ventus' notes, and with that kind of time to devote to them, the work went very quickly. After he completed brewing the potions proposed in the notes, he realized that the work was riddled with mistakes and misdirections. This clearly captured Ventus' most preliminary efforts. He duly recorded all his work on the formulas described in the notes, as he was confident that Lord Aventine and possibly the Potion Masters Guild would want to see them, but then he began to focus on the parts he felt were wrong. He developed his own theories and tested out alternative approaches where his understanding of potion theory suggested a different path. Once Severus was free of the burden of the thinking underlying the Ventus notes, he made amazing progress.

The first breakthrough came when he explored the parallels between his mother's and Ventus' work. The common use of magical roses by both brewers turned out to be a red herring – the real connection was in the spell component of the potions, and the intention captured in the spell. Severus identified a similarity in the curse transmitted through blood that produced the first and all subsequent vampires, and the spell in the potion that was transmitted through the blood of his mother to assure that she would produce a beautiful child. The failures in the potions that she consumed during her quest, those pregnancies that produced Severus, Claudius, Marcellus and Diana, were the most interesting and useful, because they illustrated instances where the transmission of the spell was not achieved.

Severus studied Harry's scrawled translations side-by-side with the notes he'd found in his mother's neat hand, and began to see some options that might control or even reverse vampirism. These became the focus of his work for the remainder of the time that Harry was occupied elsewhere. He brewed and tested and refined and brewed some more, all with a feeling that he was getting closer and closer to some simple, but elusive secret.

The final week of Mrs. Longbottom's class gave him the time he needed to finish his work. That Friday, he had no detentions to supervise (deliberately – that third-year Ravenclaw really, really deserved a detention, but Severus rationalized that the dunderhead would do something equally deserving of detention soon enough, and he'd nail him then) and was able to devote four solid hours to finishing up the potion that he thought solved the riddle. With the liquid decanted into a large crystal decanter and carefully stoppered, Severus brought his own notes out to the sitting room, to finish writing them up in his comfortable chair before a blazing fire.

That was how Harry found him when he got back to their rooms with seconds to spare before curfew, although once the notes were written up, Severus had rewarded himself with a large snifter of his finest brandy. This was the first time that Harry had returned to their rooms at the end of the day over the last several weeks that Severus was not in his lab, so Harry quietly sat on the couch, watching Severus watch the flames in the fire. He wasn't sure if this was a bad mood, or evidence that Severus was tired, or upset, so he waited for Severus to speak first.

"So, Harry, how was the final class? Did everyone pass?" Severus finally asked, more to break the silence than out of any particular interest in who did or did not do well in the class.

"Everyone was able to cast the spells for her, if that's what you mean. It got pretty competitive there at the end." Severus' eyebrows arched at that. Who on earth could be competing with whom? "The Aurors were horrified that any of them might be bested by one of the Hogwarts students, so they took the whole thing very, very seriously. Minister Bones stopped in tonight." Severus stifled a laugh – what passed for significant in the eyes of the Ministry was beyond him.

Harry smiled at Severus, understanding his amusement. The Aurors were at first besides themselves with excitement when they heard that Minister Bones would be attending the last hour of the class. That ended when one of them made a comment, in jest, that she certainly wanted to be sure that her spells were more accurately cast than the Hogwarts students' spells were. She and a few of her colleagues had nothing at all about which to worry, as they were excelling, but others were doing just an average job. Like the Aurors, some Hogwarts students were excelling and others just getting by, but that did mean that there were students doing better than some of the Aurors. Excitement turned to concern very quickly, and competitiveness sparked. No one embarrassed themselves, and Minister Bones was complimentary to all, so presumably, all that worry was for naught.

"Anyway, every single person in the class demonstrated competence with the material, and that's what counts." Harry pronounced that last as a final punctuation on the experience. They all now had the skills they needed, and there was no time for foolishness over who learned something faster or seemed able to cast a spell with greater power.

"How did your evening go? Did you finish your potion? You mentioned last night that you were nearly there. Tell me!" Harry demanded.

Severus gave him a very strange look, a measure of pride, which was very typical, Harry had learned, when Severus finished a difficult task to which he had set himself, but there was a sadness, or melancholy there too.

"I did finish the potion. I tested it every way I can short of administering it to an actual vampire, but I think I've got it," he allowed.

"That's fantastice! Then why so glum?" Harry asked.

"I told you that Ventus made a number of mistakes." Harry nodded. "Whenever a Potion Master is doing experimental work, that is very common. The early efforts to create a potion are a trial and error process. You make progress and have breakthroughs when you go back over your notes, brew things again with little refinements, and finally identify the right path." Harry nodded again. Watching Severus deal with the failures with no anger or upset had been one of the more shocking things he'd seen since he'd become the man's bondmate; he never would have imagined Severus could remain so calm when a potion failed. "The techniques, tools and ingredients we use today are refined and improved in many ways; after all, there have been four hundred years of advancements in the field, so I had a big advantage. But I think Ventus was heading in the right direction. He had quite a bit of work still to do, but even allowing for the state of potion-making four hundred years ago, had he been allowed to continue with his work, I suspect he would have discovered this potion or something like it in no more than a year or two."

There was genuine pain in Severus' voice as he made that observation, and it surprised and moved Harry that he showed such empathy. He quietly stood from the couch and moved to sit on the arm of Severus' chair, putting his arm around his shoulders as he did so. He suspected that Severus might need the comfort of touch, although he'd never say such a thing aloud.

"What went on four hundred years ago that made him stop?" Harry asked in a quiet voice. He'd gathered the general story from the comments made by Lord Aventine at the Wizengamot, but assumed this was probably some part of wizarding history he'd missed in one of Professor Binn's more boring classes.

"A family of elitists rose to power, and they were utterly fixated on purity of blood. The Forte family did not seem to have great concern about the parentage of those who had magic, so muggle-born witches and wizards were safe from them, but they felt that anyone with magic who was afflicted with any sort of impurity in their blood should be killed outright. They were particularly savage when it came to werewolves and vampires; some historians have speculated that it was possible that someone in a family with which they had a long-standing feud might have had one of those conditions. Their time in power was short-lived, although it lasted long enough to force the Wizengamot to pass a series of laws that severely limited the rights of vampires and werewolves. The Fortes were never able to persuade a majority to pass laws that mandated their death, although they tried. Their efforts to eradicate everyone who was afflicted with lycanthropy or vampirism made research about those conditions a very dangerous undertaking, and finally the Ministry actually ordered researchers to stop. I suspect that many others in addition to Ventus were working on this, but his might be the only work that has survived over the years for us to find today. He must have had strong allies in the Potions Masters Guild who were willing to hide his notes, rather than burn them. The fact that he wrote his notes in Parseltongue might have been what saved them, because no one could identify them as pertaining to vampirism."

"I never knew that. Is this something that Professor Binns covered in our classes?" Harry wondered. "And if they weren't in power very long, why weren't the laws just repealed?"

"I doubt that you missed this in one of Professor Binns' lectures, Harry. It was a dark time for the wizard political system, when many things happened of which the magical world is not proud, and as a result, the history books tend to omit the Forte story. Unfortunately, those laws stayed on the books even after the family's fortunes reversed completely and they faded into obscurity. In every generation, there were always a few who might have been willing to repeal the laws, but usually just as many who supported those laws. Because efforts to understand the conditions were stopped, suspicion and fear were the common reaction to anyone afflicted. Your commitment to Lord Aventine to translate the notes he found and to have Lucius Malfoy champion the repeal of those old laws was quite remarkable, an approach that broke with hundreds of years of precedent."

Harry sensed approval in that last comment, and smiled at Severus.

"So, what happens next? Does this get submitted to the Potions Masters Guild like the other potion?" Harry wanted to know.

Severus thought on that for a moment. "Possibly not. I will need to discuss this with the Headmaster, and possibly with Lord Aventine. This potion might be better utilized privately. I'll arrange to run some tests to verify my assumptions, validate my conclusion that it is a cure, establish a dosing and delivery protocol. Then we'll have to consider distribution."

"What do you mean, use it privately? Won't that limit access to it?"

"Actually, I fear that the Ministry would be completely ineffective if we wanted them to distribute it. Vampires don't trust the Ministry at all. You saw the reaction to Lord Aventine's presence in the Wizengamot chamber – Aurors are trained to kill them on sight. Also, there are many vampires who never adjust to vampirism. Those are the ones who have given all vampires the reputation as mindless beasts; they have been driven mad by their condition. They are the menace to the rest of us, the ones we really need to treat. I am hoping that Lord Aventine can assist in devising a way to get this potion to vampires who appear to not want to ingest it."

Harry sighed. Things were always so damned complicated. "So, you've finished your project, and it appears to have been a successful effort. I think that merits a reward, Severus. You look rather tense, so I think your reward should be a nice soak in the tub, followed by a massage. What do you think about that?"

The melancholy melted off of Severus' features as he looked up at Harry, still perched on the arm of the chair, and a warm smile spread from his lips to his eyes. He stood and took Harry's hand in response, as the two headed off to the massive tub.

Harry spelled it full of hot-to-almost-too-hot water, just the way Severus liked it, and carefully added several drops of essential oils to add to the calming and relaxing effect. He stripped out of his clothes faster than Severus could (smiling to himself as he watched Severus fumble with all the buttons on his jacket), so he got into the tub first, and scooted to the back of it. When Severus finally joined him, Harry held his ground and got Severus seated before sliding behind him and drawing the larger man back to rest on his chest.

Harry did not get many opportunities to take care of Severus. First, there was that nonsense about Severus being more financially stable so he always paid for things. Then came the fact that Severus was physically so much larger than him, which seemed to automatically put him in the role of protector. When they were floating in the bathtub, or stretched out on the bed, things seemed more equal, or at least Harry's shorter stature did not so fully dictate the role he could play. He threaded his arms under Severus' arms and held on to his chest, so the man could relax back in the scented water, with his head safely nestled against Harry's chest. Neither man moved or spoke for long minutes, relishing the comfort of their close contact in the soothing warmth of the bath. Harry finally risked breaking the moment by commencing his massage, sending his magic through his hands into his bondmate. Severus stirred every so slightly when he felt the magic move within him, but it felt so wonderful, he stilled quickly and let Harry proceed until the water began to cool.

Rather than re-spell the water to stay warm, Harry directed a warming spell at a stack of fluffy oversized towels and levitated them to the side of the tub. He helped Severus stand and get out of the tub, and immediately wrapped Severus in one of the warm towels before grabbing one for himself. Harry helped Severus dry off, and was a bit surprised how passively Severus stood and allowed him to blot and rub (and yes, occasionally grope) him. Leaving the used towels in a heap on the floor, Harry took his hand and led him to the bed, where he guided Severus on to his stomach. Harry hopped onto the bed himself and straddled Severus' hips.

Harry's fingers expertly kneading and probing his tense muscles would have put Severus to sleep, except for the fact that just enough of Harry's magic was finding its way to his prostate to arouse him almost past the point of being capable of speech. He wasn't entirely sure if Harry realized the effect he was having, or if he was doing this deliberately, but he had no choice other than to give in to the sensations pulsing at breakneck speed through his body. It did not take long for Severus to experience a shattering release, after which he finally, limply surrendered to sleep.

Harry watched Severus in the throes of pleasure and release. He was very hard himself, but he had learned how aroused his magic could make his partner, and he wanted to focus exclusively on Severus' pleasure. Harry rather proudly realized that he had brought Severus to a very impressive orgasm exclusively through his magic. However, as he sat back on his haunches and surveyed Severus' back and buttocks, he realized he had to take care of his own arousal if he had any hope of falling asleep. Severus was clearly sound asleep, so Harry was emboldened to indulge in a fantasy he'd been having more and more frequently lately – he began to touch and stroke Severus' backside, imagining what it would be like to be truly intimate with him. He was pretty sure he was ready to ask Severus to take his virginity. He imagined that would be a fantastic experience, and he knew he could trust Severus to be gentle and caring.

He began to stroke himself, harder and harder, and his fantasy moved along to images of him making love to Severus. Harry was surprised how quickly those final thoughts caused him to explode, and once he began to recover his wits, he was mortified to realize that he had come all over Severus. A soft snore told him that Severus was not aware, so Harry padded off to the bathroom for a damp flannel with which to wipe the evidence of his own orgasm from the sleeping man's back. Harry nudged Severus onto his side, and slid in behind him, to hold the man close.

Before he followed him to sleep, Harry placed a soft kiss on the rose tattoo on Severus' shoulder.

X X X X X X X X X X

Severus sought an early morning appointment with Albus, who offered to meet with him immediately after they finished their breakfasts.

As he settled into the chair across from Albus' desk, Severus got right to the point. "I finished my work with Ventus' notes. They were clearly preliminary, but were directionally sound, and I developed a potion that I think merits testing."

Albus was surprised that Severus had a potion to test already. "What exactly are you proposing to test it for?" he inquired.

"I believe it will dissolve a curse that is suffused in the blood of the vampire. I need to validate that it does so, and then determine if that has the desired result of ending the condition. And then of course, determine what sort of dosing and delivery is optimal."

Albus now looked incredulous. "Are you saying that you not only worked through the translation of Ventus' notes, but you've brewed a potion that might cure vampirism?"

"That's what I believe I just said, yes," Severus replied, now a bit snippy. "Ventus' work was directionally helpful, and I had some materials of my own, from my mother, that were also very helpful with this. The great tragedy of this situation is that I believe, had Ventus been allowed to continue with his work, he would have reached this same place in a year or two, at the most."

Albus leaned back in his chair, and considered the man sitting before him, although the gleam of pride in his eyes never wavered. He had always regarded Severus as one of the brightest wizards he knew, and of course he had great faith in Severus' brewing skills, but the speed with which he'd achieved this was astonishing. In fact, Severus was known for his methodical approach to brewing, fully evaluating every option before selecting the one he felt was best and finally moving forward, only to repeat the same exhaustive process at the next step. His results were often spectacular, but they were not achieved quickly. What had changed? Could his relationship with Harry have had any impact on him? Harry had certainly become more confident and sure of himself since he was bonded to Severus; might that have worked both ways? Was Severus now more confident of his instincts, comfortable acting without having ruled out all other options?

He took a deep breath before answering Severus. "That is a tragedy, especially if your potion does cure vampirism; to think that scourge could have been eliminated centuries ago! Do you have thoughts on how you'd like to proceed with testing?"

"I believe Lord Aventine is our natural contact. I have no intention of inviting a vampire to visit Hogwarts; I was considering requesting a meeting at the Ministry offices, or if we need to meet elsewhere, asking Lucius Malfoy to host a meeting at Malfoy Manor. Malfoy has excellent contacts among mediwizards who provide high quality medical services and don't ask questions; we might want one of them to assess the test. If this potion works as I hope, I also think we must pursue private distribution."

Albus smiled, eyes twinkling again. "Ah, you have thought of everything, Severus! I agree completely with what you propose. If I might, I would like to observe the testing myself. Such a momentous, if long-delayed event – I would be thrilled to witness this."

Severus was mollified, as Albus knew he would be, with that praise. He nodded at Albus. "As you wish, Headmaster. I will dispatch owls immediately."

X X X X X X X X X X

A series of Death Eater raids in an around Diagon Alley Saturday morning had created a small panic in the Ministry, and with communications in and out disrupted, Severus was not able to confirm a meeting with Lord Aventine that weekend as he'd hoped. However, Lucius was one of the presenters at the Wednesday squib class, and replied that he would be arriving at Hogwarts early that afternoon for meetings and would be pleased to speak to Severus then.

X X X X X X X X X X

Lucius swept into Severus' office in the dungeons at the agreed-upon hour. Severus noted with amusement the utter splendor of the man's attire; he was outfitted in the most sumptuous of silks and brocades, in colors that made his long white hair glow, and caused his pale blue eyes to look even bluer. He also had a massive sapphire ring on his hand. The man was clearly taking his moment in the spotlight at Hogwarts very seriously, indeed. Lucius let out an aggrieved sigh as he sat in one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs that were placed opposite Severus' desk.

"Can't you get Albus to provide you with more comfortable chairs for your visitors?"

Severus smiled. "Most of the people who sit in those chairs are students." With a wave of his hand, though, Severus placed a cushioning charm on the offending chair, and Lucius made himself a bit more comfortable.

"Volpine and I were very excited at the outcome of the meeting several weeks ago; I've been keeping close watch on the progress that the Guild has been making, and they expect to be ready to test one of the potions in a few weeks. He and I have discussed forming a company to manufacture and distribute it as soon as the potion is approved and we have agreed to terms with you. Or are you planning to do that yourself?"

Severus was surprised to hear that the final tests were so near to hand, although if Lucius had a potential business interest in the progress, it was not surprising that he'd be right on top of it. "No, Lucius, I am not interested in getting into a commercial venture. Harry and I have agreed that we will give the rights to the potion to Hogwarts, so you can have your solicitors contact Albus about the arrangements."

Lucius seemed surprised at the donation, but took it in stride. Albus was always a reasonable businessman, whatever you might say about how he ran the school. Plus, Lucius had just met with Lord Landon, an introduction arranged by the man's son he had hosted as he recovered from the power drain through his Dark Mark. Landon's business was highly regarded for the quality of potions ingredients it sourced, and Lucius wanted to be sure, before he began to seriously consider any new business venture, that he had access to the ingredients he would need, and at favorable rates. A good deal with Landon gave him a bit more room to negotiate with Albus.

"I actually have another potion that I wanted to discuss with you while you are at Hogwarts," Severus continued.

A cruel smile came to Lucius' lips. "My, haven't you been busy! I would not have expected that you'd have all this time to be working on potions, Severus!"

Severus knew how Lucius' mind worked, and was one step ahead of him. "As you know, Mrs. Longbottom's class ended last week, and Harry was attending it in the evenings. I had the time, and used it profitably."

Ah, business again. That got Lucius' interest. "What kind of potion? How profitably?"

It was Severus' turn to offer a cruel smile of his own. "Something to benefit your other new constituency, I hope. I finished working on Ventus' potion. The notes captured just his preliminary work, so it needed refinement and much adjustment, but I believe I've brought it to its intended result. I need to test if of course, but I believe it will cure vampirism. We cannot invite a vampire to Hogwarts, and I'd like any tests observed and verified by a qualified, and discreet, mediwizard. I was hoping that you would be willing to host the tests at the Manor, and arrange for one of your private mediwizards to attend."

Lucius needed a moment to process what he'd just been told. Severus had come up with a cure for vampirism, on top of the lycanthropy potion? He sat for a moment, thinking that he presented the image of a statesman reflecting on a significant achievement that would benefit his people; Severus, on the other hand, was thinking to himself that he'd not seen a look of lust like that since he'd seen the man eyeing at Harry at the Wizengamot in the events that followed the Calling. Money, as well as power, were obviously aphrodisiacs for Lucius, although his hopes of profit with this potion were not going to be met.

Severus decided to continue as Lucius continued to pose. "I would propose to invite Lord Aventine to ask some of his . . . associates afflicted with the condition to join us, and we can see if this potion works as I believe it will. Once we validate it and work out dosing, we'll need Aventine's help in distributing it. I do not intend to submit this to the Potions Masters Guild; I want to distribute this privately, with your and Aventine's help."

All pretense of statesmanship vanished as Lucius realized that there would be no profit, glory or even publicity associated with this venture. He had committed to Potter that he would champion the cause of vampires as well as werewolves, so he really had no way to avoid this request. A slightly deflated man replied, "Of course, old friend. I can suggest that Narcissa visit with her friends in Paris; she always likes that. Have you spoken to Aventine about this yet? Any idea when we can do this?"

"I sent him an owl on Saturday, and had hoped to speak to him over the weekend, but with the Dark Lord's activities in London this past weekend, that could not be arranged. He's aware of the general situation from my letter."

"I will owl him then, from the Ministry," Lucius offered. "He's a member of the Wizengamot, so correspondence from the Ministry would be routine. I'll offer to make the necessary arrangements at his earliest convenience."

X X X X X X X X X

It was yet another Wednesday on which Hogwarts Castle was full to overflowing, and the Great Hall had to be nearly doubled in size to accommodate all who arrived for dinner. Once again, it was a tribute to the house elves network that connected kitchens from manors and houses all across England that ample food could be presented on such short notice.

Petunia was seated with Amaranth, who was as usual a nervous wreck before each of her squib programs. The younger woman twisted her napkin in her lap, as she ran through all the potential disasters that could still occur.

"Now, calm down, dear," Petunia advised. "Every one of these sessions has gone smoothly so far and there is every reason to believe this one will go smoothly, too."

"Ooh, I wish I could calm down, Petunia. Really, I do. It's just that I have two members of the Wizengamot speaking tonight, and the Minister of Magic herself will be here. I have to do the introductions, and what if I get a name wrong? Or mispronounce something?"

At that point, they were interrupted by the arrival of Eustace Landon. "Amaranth, how lovely to see you! This place is totally jammed with people tonight – very exciting to hear from two members of the Wizengamot, such esteemed and powerful people! My father and I were invited by Lord Malfoy, one of your speakers, as we had business to discuss with him. We were thrilled that the meeting was scheduled at Hogwarts so we can attend the presentations. Might I ask a favor, dear? It's terribly crowded, and we've not found seats. May my father and I join you and your friend?"

Amaranth distractedly agreed, and Eustace rushed off to find his father. For her part, Petunia was glad that there would be more of a diversion at dinner, to take Amaranth's mind off the evening event.

Moments later, Eustace and his father approached the table. Thurston apparently had not been too big a part of his son's upbringing, as he seemed not to know Amaranth and was only vaguely aware of her brother with whom Eustace took fencing lessons. In the old-worldly manner of wizards, he immediately took to calling her Mrs. Savoy. As Amaranth was about to introduce Petunia, Thurston shocked her and his son by gallantly bowing over Petunia's outstretched hand, noting that he had already had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Dursley at a previous Wednesday evening presentation. The two gentlemen took their seats, with Eustace seated next to Petunia and Thurston seated next to Amaranth.

Thurston was just like Eustace when it came to dropping names, so most of the dinner conversation consisted of one or the other of the Landons going on and on about this or that Very Important Person that they knew, or met with, or did business with. Petunia was now competent enough with the scramasax that she was able to watch the others and nod at appropriate times, getting her food cut into bite-sized pieces and into her mouth without incident. Eustace nodded at her proficiency, remembering that he had introduced her to the implement. Thurston, himself eating exclusively with a scramasax as well, seemed quite impressed with Petunia, observing to her at one point that it was so sad that so few today adhered to the old ways. She nodded in agreement, having no idea what he was talking about, just to be polite.

When dinner was over and the plates cleared, everyone was asked to step out into the vestibule for a few minutes while the Great Hall was reconfigured for the evening's presentation. Petunia walked along with the Landons, but Amaranth had to excuse herself to be sure everything was ready. The old man's bluster and swagger, and strongly-professed preference for "old ways" reminded her of her Vernon, although of course, Vernon was quite a bit younger than Mr. Landon.

At the appointed time, Amaranth took the podium and welcomed all to the session. "Tonight, we shall hear from two of the most esteemed members of the wizarding world, members of the Wizengamot, our governing body. First we shall hear from the Honorable Remus Lupin on Wizard History and Politics. Mr. Lupin, in addition to serving now on the Wizengamot, is a former professor at Hogwarts, having taught Defense Against the Dark Arts here. Following Mr. Lupin's presentation, Lord Lucius Malfoy will speak to us. Lord Malfoy is also serving now on the Wizengamot, and he is on the Board of Governors here at Hogwarts."

With that, a very nervous Amaranth took a seat and an only-slightly-less nervous Remus Lupin took her place at the rostrum. One deep breath was all Remus needed to calm himself, and he held his audience mesmerized for the hour that he spoke. He allowed time for questions and answers, and showed himself to be self-effacing and knowledgeable. Petunia held her tongue to her two companions only because of her desire to avoid the embarrassing consequences of saying anything negative. She was personally horrified that such a criminal held a position of authority in this world, let alone was held in high esteem by these people!

The next speaker, Lord Malfoy, was as different as night from day to Mr. Lupin. Lucius was every inch the patrician aristocrat, from his neat locks held in a ponytail, to his elegant robes, to his jeweled hands, even to the gold snake atop his walking cane. Frankly, Petunia was fascinated; she'd never seen anything quite like this and did not know what to make of it. Clearly, this man had money and lots of it, always a big positive in her book. He took great care with his looks, and it would surprise her if he did not spend more time than any woman she knew primping and getting ready for his day. There was something almost foppish about him, but she suspected that perception would not be shared by a wizard, because so many of them dressed in that way, just not as nicely. He went on and on about the wizarding legal system, not a topic of great interest to Petunia, but Mr. Landon (the elder) was actively listening and agreeing with everything Lucius said. At one point, he leaned over to Petunia to observe in a whisper, "Mrs. Dursley, this man is the most astute businessman in England; he knows all the ins and outs, how to get things done here!"

Now, that definitely sounded like her Vernon!

When the speeches were over, and the enthusiastic applause had subsided, refreshments appeared on side tables. Some people drifted off, while others stayed to mingle, and more than a few tried to make their way toward the speakers for a few minutes chat. Petunia saw Harry shaking the hands of the speakers, and it should not surprise anyone that he seemed very fond of the criminal. Peas in a pod, no doubt. And that truly awful man to whom Harry was bonded was up there, too, although for some reason, Lord Malfoy seemed pleased to be speaking to him, and as a result, her perception of Malfoy went down a notch. She was amazed that the royal princes joined the group, and greeted Harry quite warmly. There was obviously no accounting for taste, or maybe those were two boys who just looked like the royals.

Eustace had immediately elbowed his way to the front of the room, leaving her and his father behind. Thurston observed to Petunia, as he watched his son's departing back, "I'm too old to be chasing after prominent people in public places like this. Eustace finds it exciting, but he's young yet. I've met Malfoy, and a number of other important people, one-on-one, where we can get to know each other. This is for sycophants, in my opinion."

Goodness, the last place on earth Petunia would want to be right now would be at the front of the room, mingling with those, those . . . wizards. To Thurston, however, she just observed, "I know what you mean, and I could not agree with you more!" He seemed very pleased with that comment, and stood as he offered to bring her back a coffee and some shortbread.


	26. Ch 103 The End of Vampires

Chapter 103

The days lengthened dramatically in June, but few students had the opportunity to notice. Final exams, OWLS and NEWTs for some and regular year-end exams for others, loomed in just weeks. The classes began to focus on reviewing material, rather than new subjects, and study groups began to pop up in the most unexpected of places, among them the Gryffindor Common Room. Needless to say, the Gryffindor study group for sixth years had been organized and was being presided over by Hermione Granger. When Draco heard what she was doing, he invited himself to join, and a few classmates from other Houses finagled invites as well, requiring that the group locate somewhere other than the Common Room. Professor McGonnagal agreed that they could use her classroom in the evenings.

The first Monday that the group met, Harry did not get back to their rooms until an hour after curfew. Severus was mildly concerned by his lateness as curfew neared, but concern had progressed to full-fledged anger by the time Harry returned.

"A wee bit after curfew, aren't we, Mr. Potter?" he offered frostily as Harry walked into the sitting room.

Harry took in the sight of his sour-faced bondmate pouting in his chair by the fire, and fought back the urge to smile. There was a potions journal open in his lap, probably unread, and a half-filled snifter of brandy at his elbow, hopefully the only one he'd had. While predicting Severus' reactions when he got in a snit was more art than science, he was hoping that if he took a conciliatory tack, he'd get Severus calmed down.

Perching on the end of the coffee table nearest Severus' chair, he replied "Yes, it is late. The study group decided to finish the topic and run late rather than break off at curfew."

"Do I have to remind you that while the others are already in their dormitory, you had to walk through the entire castle to get from the Tower to our rooms here? I assume you know how to dodge Filch – you've been doing that for years – but there is a reason we don't want students rambling about alone here at night. It isn't always safe and it's not all well-lit. If you fell or were injured because of a misstep, . . . "

Harry decided that the catharsis of venting had run far enough, and broke in before Severus got too far with this line of thought. "I was not alone, Severus. Draco and a couple of the other Slytherin six years were there too, so there was a group walking down to the dungeons."

The image of his Slytherins spending an evening in the Gryffindor Common Room broke Severus' rant. But one of the security features of the castle was that the Common Rooms were disguised and, except for the staff, only students who lived in the House knew its exact location and how to gain entry. Before launching back into his rant, Severus thought to ask "How did they get to your Common Room?"

Harry smirked. "Oh, we weren't in the Common Room. Once Draco said he wanted to come, and we had a few Ravenclaws and then a couple more Slytherins, and there was at least one Hufflepuff in the group, Hermione asked Professor McGonnagal if we could use her classroom. It was too big a group to fit in the Common Room and it got noisy."

"You don't all take the same subjects," Severus observed.

Harry was not going to be riled. He'd just keep explaining until Severus was done with the subject. "That's right. We have a schedule and a leader for each subject, and if someone didn't take the class we'll be reviewing one night, they don't come, or they can work behind a silencing spell if they'd rather be with the group."

"Miss Granger thought of everything" Severus offered sourly.

"Yep, she usually does. Actually, she was happy to have Draco and Sandy Hopwood from Ravenclaw, so they can share leading the sessions. It used to be that she led all the study sessions."

"Even for courses she hadn't taken?" Severus could not help himself from asking. He'd always entertained an image of slothful Gryffindors lounging around their Common Room before exams, hardly taking any time to review the material. He could (grudgingly) see Hermione browbeating some of them to join her in study sessions to prepare for exams, although he'd never expected anything as elaborate as schedules for study groups. But how could she lead a session on a subject she'd not even taken, as much as her classmates might need such support?

It did not seem to have occurred to Harry that she had not been in every course, and was thus hardly qualified to prepare her fellows to take a final in a subject she did not know. He shrugged as he replied, "She knows an awful lot about most things. She led all the sessions before. Maybe it's that she gives us a structure to follow, and we provide the content. It always helped."

"Typical Gryffindors."

Harry decided to go on the offensive. "So, how do the Slytherins handle study groups, then, especially if someone as smart as Draco was thrilled to find out what Hermione was organizing?"

Severus seethed for a second, but had to admit, he'd never actually seen a study group form up in Slytherin House. "Typically, Slytherins study quietly, on their own."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and looked levelly at Severus. "I think we declare this one a draw."

Severus realized he'd been completely diverted from his original point to Harry, and was now even wondering if there might be something to be said for organizing the Slytherins by classes to work through their notes and prepare for finals. He cast his own appraising glance at Harry, and mimicked him in crossing his own arms across his chest. "How very Slytherin of you Harry."

Harry briefly considered upping the ante and declaring it a victory for Gryffindor, but decided against that.

"Anyway, you know where I am, and I'll be returning here with others, and if I'm late, don't worry. OK? So, what did you do this evening?"

"I got an owl from Lucius. He's arranging for a test of the potion for vampires tomorrow evening at Malfoy Manor. He'll have one of his mediwizards there to monitor and assess what happens, and Aventine will be there with one or two of his clan."

Harry's look darkened for a moment. He was ashamed of that – ashamed of the visceral, negative reaction he had toward vampires. He was confident of Lord Aventine's good faith, and sure that he would bring no harm to him or Severus. But other vampires? Was that safe?

Severus could read the thoughts that ran through Harry's mind, as his expressions telegraphed them so clearly. Who needed legilimency when someone wore their thoughts on their faces like this? "I believe it will be perfectly safe, Harry. We will use a warded room that should provide protections, and there will be three of us ready to react should things not go as expected. The Headmaster asked to witness this, so we'll have three very powerful wizards, and I'd expect that Aventine will side with us. I really expect no problem."

Harry moved to a more comfortable perch on the sofa behind the coffee table. "So, how will you run this test?"

"We will have the mediwizard take certain readings from Aventine and his vampire companions, to verify their status as vampires, and determine if there are other . . . aspects to their physical situations that might need to be taken into consideration. Then, we test the potion."

"How do you plan to do that? How much of it do you think they need to drink?"

Severus picked a piece of lint from his robe as he answered. "I suspect that this might work adequately in aerosol form. It's a very concentrated potion; I've never seen one so strong. I want to begin offering a sniff of it on a piece of cotton. If that is too passive, I will have them inhale mist, and measure out different quantities of potion in the mist. If nothing happens when the potion is inhaled, we'll start offering it by drops. I don't think we'll have to do that, though."

"How will you know it works? What will happen to them?" Harry asked, as he wondered about the uncommon nervousness that Severus was unconsciously demonstrating.

Severus gave him a long look as he sighed before answering. "I am not sure. No one has ever reversed vampirism before. That's the other reason I want the mediwizard there. It is my understanding that Aventine is very well over one hundred years old; as a vampire, of course, he did not age. If he ceases to be a vampire, I do not know if he will simply age from that day forward, or if he will age all at once to his true age. Aside from that rather significant issue, I would expect the red eyes to turn back to their normal color, and once the curse is dispelled from their blood, their humanity will return. They'll want food and drink like the rest of us, things like that."

Harry contemplated Severus for a few minutes, not staring, exactly, but looking at him with a bewildering intensity. Severus wondered if the ravens were talking to him, but actually, Harry saw a path, or a part of a path. Finally, he reached over to Severus, putting his hand on the man's arm in comfort. "You'll do it. I know you will. You'll finish what Silvius Ventus had hoped to do centuries ago, but it will finally be done. Thank you, Severus."

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry was a bundle of nerves Tuesday night through study group. He desperately wanted the evening to end so he could find out how the meeting with the vampires had gone, and if Severus' potion had worked.

He'd seen Severus before dinner, one of the few moments they found themselves with free time at the same time. They were both nervous, and Harry did his best to be upbeat.

"Everything is going to go well tonight, Severus. I am so proud of you, so proud. You're going to make a huge difference tonight. I can feel it."

Severus was tempted to call Harry on his empty platitudes, but decided against it. Instead, he took Harry by the shoulders and drew the smaller man to him, holding him close. Harry slid his arms around Severus' waist, and returned the embrace. They stood quietly for many minutes, each finding comfort and strength in the other's presence. Unspoken between them was the fear, not that the potion would not work, but that vampires could not be trusted in the presence of humans not to attack. Intellectually, they both knew that Lord Aventine had never represented a risk to them or others when he was at the Ministry, but there would be other vampires at this meeting. Could they be trusted, or would they validate the general belief that all vampires were mindless beasts intent on spreading their curse? Neither would voice those thoughts or concerns.

Finally, when they had to leave or be noticeably late for dinner, Severus loosened his hold on Harry and stepped back to look down at his bondmate. With a final kiss, the two left for dinner.

Harry watched later as Severus and the Headmaster left dinner, knowing that they were heading to Malfoy Manor as he was trudging up to the Transfiguration classroom for the evening study group. Fortunately, the subject this evening was Charms, a class that Harry enjoyed (which meant that it was a class in which he had paid attention). It wasn't too taxing, and Harry was easily able to follow along as Hermione led the sixth years through a review of the year's work.

At Malfoy Manor, Severus and Albus arrived in time to finish last-minute preparations with Lucius and a gruff old mediwizard named Dr. Essenveld before the vampires arrived. Right on time, green flames flared in the large stone fireplace in one of the rear parlors recently restored after the Dark Lord's rampage. First through the floo was Lord Aventine, looking handsome and hale, albeit with the telltale red eyes that marked his condition. He was followed first by a stunningly beautiful woman, and then by a somewhat younger and very handsome man, each also red-eyed. Last to join the group was Valerian Ventus, Lord Aventine's non-vampire representative.

Lucius stepped forward, and very formally welcomed them. "Lord Aventine, welcome to Malfoy Manor. You know Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape, and this is one of my most trusted medical consultants, Dr. Essenveld." All nodded at the others; no one ever shook hands with vampires. "Thank you, Lord Malfoy. May I present Miss Claudelle Sansone, and Gregory Haskins, and I believe you may know Valerian Ventus." Lucius and Severus did know their fellow Slytherin, but considering the company, all opted to restrict the greetings to nods.

Severus stepped up to direct the proceedings from here. To the vampires, he said "Thank you for coming this evening and agreeing to be the first to sample the potion I have brewed. We have a table set up over here," as he pointed toward a mahogany table off to the side, "where we can discuss the process we will follow."

After everyone but the doctor was seated, Severus resumed. "First, Dr. Essenveld will conduct some basic scans to validate your current condition and determine if there are any other medical issues of which we should be aware. Then," as he gestured at a stoppered decanter placed before his seat, "we will see if this potion works as I expect it to. Based on the notes left for us by Silvius Ventus, and some other material to which I have access, I believe that your condition is caused by a curse that is suffused in your blood, and I believe that this potion will remove the curse." Severus nodded at that point to the mediwizard, who proceeded to wave his wand over each in turn, while a charmed quill made notes on a parchment. When Dr. Essenveld was finished, he nodded back at Severus.

All eyes were on his elegant hands as Severus removed the stopper from the decanter and poured a small measure into a glass bowl. He then took a piece of cotton and allowed it to absorb the potion. "I am not at all certain that the mere scent of the potion will have any impact on anyone, but the best practice is to begin here. Lord Aventine, do you wish to go first, or will one of your associates do that?" Aventine nodded, signaling that he would be first. "Fine, then. Please hold the cotton to your nose and inhale."

Lord Aventine did as he was asked, but the red eyes that were on Severus the whole time remained red. The cotton was passed along to the others, with similar non-results.

Severus did not appear at all surprised or distressed by this outcome. He now placed a glass funnel into an atomizer and carefully filled the atomizer from the decanter. The top of the atomizer had some dials, allowing Severus to control the amount of potion that went into the mist. "Once again, we begin with the lowest possible concentration. In this case, I would like you to mist the air in front of your nose, and breathe deeply. We'll leave the setting at that level, and you will inhale more in those small increments, at least to start."

Lord Aventine took the atomizer and gave the bulb a good squeeze, and inhaled the mist greedily. Severus' own heart leapt – the vampire's eyes were definitely not as red as they had been, although they were not yet human. "May I continue with more mist, Lord Snape?" he asked with quiet dignity.

Severus had intended to proceed with each taking one dose of mist in turn, but could not deny this man, who had waited so long and ultimately taken great personal risk in coming to the Ministry to secure assistance in getting the notes translated and this potion brewed. The science could be preserved with careful note-taking, and Lord Aventine deserved the right to be the first vampire cured of his condition, if that was to be the outcome. "As you wish. Just allow Dr. Essenveld to scan you with each dose, so we have a record of your progress and can use this to determine appropriate dosing for others."

The mediwizard cast his spells at this point, as his charmed quill made the notes. When he was done, he nodded for Lord Aventine to proceed. Another dose of mist was dispensed, again the vampire lord inhaled greedily, and again scans were made and notes carefully recorded.

Valerian, Lucius and Albus watched nervously as this process proceeded through the third dose with the atomizer. After inhaling the third dose, Lord Aventine's eyes were a rheumy blue, and while he was still a handsome man, he was an older man, and his skin sagged ever so slightly and creased at the corners of his eyes. Dr. Essenveld's final scans confirmed what their eyes told them. "Lord Aventine no longer has any evidence of a curse in his blood. His readings are all clearly human."

Severus let out a breath that he did not realize he had been holding, as Albus clapped him firmly on the back. "Well done, Severus, well done!"

A clear tear, with no tinge of blood, made its way down his cheek at the news, as Lord Aventine slowly stood. He was stooped now, as well, and he walked a bit slower as he made his way around the table. Severus stood as he approached, and took the man's outstretched hand. "Lord Snape, you and Harry Potter have my eternal gratitude. You have completed work left untouched for far too many years, but you have saved me and all others like me. Thank you."

Severus only then realized that he was shaking Lord Aventine's hand – it was a human hand, slowly warming as uncursed blood now flooded through it. Albus had been standing next to Severus, and he moved in, eyes twinkling with pride in Severus and pleasure for the cured vampire, to embrace Lord Aventine and offer his congratulations on this wonderful outcome. "I am sure our host can offer a nice brandy to reinvigorate your blood further, Edward." Lucius, who was absolutely gobsmacked at this remarkable turn of events, realized with a start – that was him. He summoned a house elf and requested that a bottle of the best brandy and snifters for all be brought immediately.

While Albus fussed over Edward and Lucius overcame his shock, Severus got back to business. He wanted to finish the night's work so all could partake in the celebration. He placed the atomizer in front of Claudelle and asked her to follow the process that Lord Aventine had just demonstrated. She nervously squeezed the bulb and sniffed the air deeply. Once again, Severus noticed an immediate change in her eyes, although another dose was clearly needed. Once the mediwizard had nodded that she could proceed, she took her second dose.

This time, Claudelle closed her eyes as she inhaled the mist, and all noticed, when she opened them again, that her eyes were deep brown, and she no longer possessed the perfect, ethereal beauty she'd arrived with. She looked human, with large pores around her nose, and a few broken capillaries on her cheeks. The mediwizard shortly pronounced that she, too, no longer had a curse flowing through her veins.

The atomizer was then placed before Gregory, who followed the pattern set by the other two, although he needed four doses of the mist before he had clear hazel eyes, a slight overbite, and some small acne scars on his face. He was similarly pronounced curse-free.

The house elf who had brought the bottle of brandy had to pop out for an extra glass each time one of the vampires became human. The little creature knew that a vampire could not eat food or drink brandy, so he brought no glasses for the vampires. But the vampires were turning into regular wizards, who needed glasses, and looking quite befuddled, he had to make two separate trips for an extra glass.

Claudelle was sobbing softly with joy, or possibly relief, and Gregory had followed Lord Aventine to the other side of the table to shake Severus' hand and express his heartfelt gratitude.

Valerian was the last to approach Severus, with a question apparent on his face. Severus guessed what he wanted to know. "Silvius, who I assume was your ancestor, was on the right path when his work was suspended. Had he been allowed to continue with his research, I predict he would have reached this point in a year or two. I had the advantage of four hundred years of general advances in potion making tools, and techniques, as well as some private research conducted by a more immediate ancestor of my own, that enable me to conclude this work as quickly as I did. But if this were a potion I was going to submit to the Potion Masters Guild, Silvius would have been listed first as developer." Valerian nodded, pride clear in his eyes.

Severus accepted the thanks and congratulations, but was rather clearly more interested in reviewing Dr. Essenveld's notes and working out a dosing protocol.

"Now, now, Severus. This is a most important and joyous occasion, and you should indulge in a moment of celebration" Albus counseled, as he directed the house elf to give all in the room a snifter of Lucius' brandy. "Our friends, Lord Aventine, Miss Sansone and Mr. Haskins, will benefit from the warmth of the brandy, and we will join them in celebration! To Harry and Severus!" he offered in toast, lifting his glass, and the others joined him. Severus nodded in thanks, and took a few sips of his own drink. It was clear that he was itching to get to work.

Finally, Albus gave in. "What a wonderful evening. Thank you, Lucius, for the hospitality of your lovely home, and thank you, Severus, for allowing me to witness such an event." Turning to the three who had arrived as vampires, he offered "While Severus and the good doctor review their notes and work out how to best deliver this remarkable elixir to others with this affliction, might I suggest that it would be best for all of you to remain where your continued good health can be monitored? And it might be a good idea for you to remain secluded, so you are not spotted out and about, lest word of this cure precede our ability to deliver it to others. Edward, you and your representative can work with Lucius and Severus on how best to get this produced in the necessary quantity and then distributed to those who need it. I'd gladly offer you the hospitality of Hogwarts Castle, but we're very full these days, and I fear there really is no space."

"Albus, most kind of you. We can repair to my own manor, and if Dr. Essenveld is available to continue to tend to us, I would be most obliged, although Valerian could summon assistance if any of us become distressed. It is safe there; I alerted my own house elves to what might occur tonight, and they have made my home ready. I asked them to have roast beef and Yorkshire pudding waiting for us – my, but I have missed that! But, if I may, I would like first to visit Hogwarts tonight for just a few minutes, to offer my thanks to Lord Potter for his role in this."

Severus nodded at this suggestion. For his part, Lucius looked inordinately relieved that no one had suggested that he host this group in his home. He was happy to have accommodated Severus in hosting this meeting, but he was not at all comfortable having three recent-vampires in residence.

As the group departed Malfoy Manor, Albus went through the floo to his office first, followed by Lord Aventine and then Severus.

"We can have a cup of tea and some cake – not enough to spoil your appetite for that splendid dinner you've planned, Edward, don't worry – while you get Harry, Severus, if that is acceptable with you?"

Severus was secretly pleased for the chance to share this wonderful news with Harry privately, although as he walked down to the Transfiguration classroom, he realized he'd be sharing the moment with all the Gryffindors, and sundry Slytherins, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. When he got there, the place was deserted. A quick lumos to determine the time explained why – it was much later than Severus' had imagined. He went on then to his own rooms, where a very nervous Harry was pacing. Severus smiled at the sight.

"Harry, will you join me in the Headmaster's office? He has a guest who would like a word with you." Harry spun at Severus' voice. That one sentence told him all he hoped there was to say. The guest had to be Lord Aventine, and the Headmaster would never allow a vampire into the castle, so the potion must have worked. Harry flew into Severus' outstretched arms with a whoop of celebration, followed by a kiss of gratitude and congratulations. Severus returned the kiss, but broke it off before they forgot that the Headmaster was waiting for them.

"We can floo from here up to my office – that's faster than taking such a long walk," Harry suggested. Severus agreed, and moments later, the two entered the Headmaster's office.

Harry was shocked by Lord Aventine's new appearance. This was obviously Lord Aventine, still a very handsome and distinguished man, but in many ways he looked so different. He was an older man now, stooped and a bit jowly, and with the eyes of an old man, too. But the eyes were definitely not red; now they were pale blue. He accepted the outstretched hand, and gushed "Congratulations, sir! I am so thrilled for you – this is wonderful!"

"No, Lord Potter, it is I who must offer you, and your bondmate, Lord Snape, congratulations and my deepest thanks for your trust and work on my behalf. I and two companions are now cured, thanks to you. I hope within the next few days, Lords Snape and Malfoy, my representative and I can determine how to get this potion to other vampires and restore them to their human state. I did not want to do anything, though, before I came to you to express my thanks."

Harry was clearly moved by the words. He smiled and nodded at Lord Aventine, unable to trust his voice at that moment. Severus suspected a moment of sentimental Gryffindorishness, and gallantly stepped into the breach. "I suspect that you two have more catching up to do, or at least a dinner to attend to, so we will leave you now. Lord Aventine, either I or Lucius will contact you tomorrow to discuss our next steps." With a formal bow, he added "Good evening" as he took Harry's arm and led him back to the floo in his own office.

Harry's voice was back by the time he and Severus reached their sitting room. "Tell me how it went, Severus! I want to know all the details!" he demanded as he sat on the sofa, leaving room for Severus if he was inclined to sit with him. Harry wanted to know, of course, but he suspected that Severus wanted to tell someone, too. This was an enormous accomplishment, and from what Harry understood of the arrangements, it was not going to be publicized at all. At least, he would have one opportunity, before one enthusiastic audience, to tell his story.

Severus did tell it, with gusto and in great detail. Perhaps too much detail, as it turned out. It was already quite late when he started, and Harry had had a tiring day, and then a long night of studying and worrying about how the potion would work. Harry felt a yawn coming on after about half an hour, and while he stifled it, he felt himself fading. Fortunately, he was awake as the story reached the part where Lord Aventine was cured, which was the most significant event, because not too long thereafter, Harry fell asleep. When Severus finally noticed that Harry was sound asleep, he was momentarily peeved although almost immediately, it occurred to him that he was exhausted, too. He pondered levitating Harry into the bedroom, but thought better of it. Instead, he gently gathered him in his arms, and carried him off to bed.

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry was itching to tell the story of the potion's success the next day, but Severus had sworn him to secrecy, allowing him only to speak of it to Hermione and Ron, and cautioning him to be sure they kept it secret, too. Harry normally did not want to intrude on their time together, and lately, he felt even more strongly the strengthening bond between his two best friends, but he couldn't keep this to himself.

As he took his usual spot between them at breakfast, he waited for the conversation to be focused further down the table before softly asking if they'd mind if he spoke to them privately before their first class of the day. "Mione, Ron, could we have a word before Charms? Maybe leave a few minutes early so we could speak privately?"

"Something was going on yesterday, Harry. You were totally distracted all day, and practically not even present by the evening. I do hope you are going to tell us what that was about," Hermione replied. For someone who had stormed from the Divination class muttering that it was all claptrap, Hermione sure did seem to see things others missed. Harry had been thinking that he'd controlled his concern all day, but apparently not from Hermione. Ron seemed puzzled by her comments, so perhaps Harry's act the day before wasn't a total failure.

The trio huddled in an alcove just past the classroom where they would have a few minutes of privacy as students started to gather in the hall. "Severus and Dumbledore tested the potion on vampires last night, and it worked," Harry blurted out. "Malfoy and Aventine are going to work out how to get it where it needs to go, but they cured Aventine. I saw him in Dumbledore's office myself, he was drinking tea and eating one of those cookies. Vampires can't do that, can they?"

Ron looked aghast. "No way would Dumbledore allow a vampire into the castle! How could he do that?"

"I told you, Ron. The potion changed him and he isn't a vampire anymore," Harry argued.

"But what if he was wrong? He could have caused a disaster," Ron persisted.

Hermione had greater trust in Dumbledore, apparently. "I am quite certain that the Headmaster would have been totally sure they were safe before he'd allow someone into the castle, Ron. How did it work, Harry?"

Harry shared the story he'd been told, adding "Malfoy even had one of his mediwizards, like the ones who took care of the Death Eaters after their powers were sapped, checking on them while they tested the potion, and he confirmed that their readings were human."

Ron still seemed unconvinced, but Harry figured that he had been exposed to the standard wizarding prejudice against or fear of vampires all his life, and was thus less willing to accept that one could ever be a "former" vampire. Hermione had her concerns, because no doubt the wizarding fears were written in a book somewhere so she'd read about it, but she was more inclined to accept that where Harry and Professor Snape were involved, the past did not dictate what would happen today. She even spotted a strategic advantage in the upcoming war that Ron had missed.

"Sirius mentioned that there were rumors at the Ministry that Voldemort has been trying to establish alliances with various Dark creatures to fight with him in whatever battles are to come, now that his plan to kill everyone with the sleeping spell didn't work. Most people think of vampires first when they think of Dark creatures. If the vampires are cured, do you think they'd be willing to fight on his side? Granted, they weren't treated well by the Ministry, but there are very few vampires known by name to the Ministry. The prejudice is so strong that most wizards who became vampires simply disappeared from their families, who never disclosed that they'd been bitten. If they return to their families cured, I can't imagine they'd want to identify themselves, after they'd been cured, as having once been a vampire. I'd expect that, once they were cured, vampires would go back to their old lives, or start new ones, as regular wizards."

Harry had not considered that strategic advantage, either, and he was buoyed all day by the realization that this success with the potion was more than just an extraordinary humanitarian success – it was a further wrinkle in Voldemort's plans.

Hermione scheduled the Wednesday study groups to work on topics that Harry had not taken, knowing that he'd miss her sessions in favor of the squib programs, so he did not even have to feel guilty as he settled into his usual spot near the front of the room, and greeted his friends, the princes, as they arrived and took their regular spots nearby. Tonight's program would provide information about Hogwarts, from the Headmaster, and then some of the teachers and a guest or two would talk about the kind of classes wizards-in-training attended. Harry recalled with amusement the near-panic that the presentation on the wizarding economy by Gringott's representative, Griphook, had caused, and wondered what reaction there would be tonight to Firenze when he addressed the group about Divination. He did not have Griphook's frightening Goblin appearance, but Centaurs were unusual. And if either Professor Sprout or the guest joining her to talk about the plants of the magical world brought any interesting specimens, that could be entertaining, too.

As the guest joining Professor Sprout was Eustace Landon, Petunia and Amaranth had again been joined at dinner by Eustace and Thurston. Petunia had decided that the best thing about having those two join them at dinner before these programs was that they prattled on so, it took Amaranth's mind off the program and calmed her nerves for a few minutes. The two Landons went on and on about who knew what, and all Petunia had to do was nod at appropriate times and they thought she was a great audience!

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry spent the rest of the week reading the Daily Prophet with a bit more interest than usual, to see if there was any mention that vampires had been cured. At the very least, he figured that something would be said when Lord Aventine appeared at the Ministry, because his appearance would make to clear to one and all that he was no longer a vampire.

By Friday, he began to wonder if there had been a problem. Severus had assured him that the single batch of potion he'd brewed was adequate for an initial distribution because it was so concentrated, and that Valerian Ventus was known to and trusted by all the vampire clans, so he was the one visiting them with the atomizers that would dispense the cure for their condition. But no one was saying anything, at least in the Prophet.

Draco caught up with Harry between classes, and asked for a word during the break after Potions. He did not mince words when the two of them had their private chat.

"Professor Snape brewed that potion from the notes you translated, about vampirism, and it must have worked."

Harry's mind was racing. He'd not said anything, as Severus had asked him to keep this secret. Had Ron let this slip? It was inconceivable that Hermione would do so, but how did Draco know? All he could think of to say was "What makes you think so?"

"Haven't you seen the Daily Prophet all week?" he demanded. Harry's expression made it clear that he did not have any idea what Draco meant. In his own mind, Harry was wondering how on earth he could have missed something like this, especially since he'd been looking for it. Draco continued "Well, alright, it might not have been as clear to you, I guess I can see that. All week long, there have been stories about members of wizarding families who have been away from home for years, decades even, who have returned. Lots of social notices – people having teas and receptions for relatives who have been abroad, or whatever. We'd always suspected that the people who disappeared had been bitten, and now, all at once, they're all back. I put two and two together. Professor Snape was asked to work on the notes about vampires, and suddenly, all these people are back in society. He must have succeeded."

"Have you spoken to your father about your suspicions?" Harry asked. He'd really rather that Draco's father be the one who told him – Harry did not know the most current information, and if Severus and Lucius still felt this needed to be secret, let Lucius be the one to explain it all.

Draco looked surprised at that suggestion, although he then remembered that the papers said his father had been tasked by Harry with championing the causes of werewolves and vampires. Still suspecting that Harry knew more than he was telling, Draco replied "I hadn't thought to do that. I'll owl him. Maybe he does now."

Harry reported this conversation to Severus later. "The distribution has gone very well. I think Ventus reached all the clans, and was able to get all the vampires associated with the clans to ingest the potion. There are probably a few out there still, but he has other contacts and feels it will be no more than a week or two when he will have reached them all, at least here in Britain."

"How can you get this to other countries? Aren't there vampires in other places?"

Severus was tempted to make a comment about how very Gryffindor that question was, but decided against it. "I have contacts in a number of places, as does Aventine and Ventus, and I suspect even Malfoy will help us out here. We will be able to get atomizers into the hands of the right people everywhere."

"And no one will know you did this?"

Severus smiled at Harry's naivete. "I will not tell anyone, or make any announcement, but I assure you, Harry, people will find out. Draco will ask his father; because his father had a role in this, I am confident he will tell Draco. While he might mention that this is to be kept quiet, Draco will still tell others. The Wizengamot is scheduled to meet in public next week, and that means that Lord Aventine will appear in public, and the change in him is obvious."

"Draco told me that he got suspicious reading the social pages of the Daily Prophet. Lots of people who've been abroad, according to their families, are suddenly back."

Severus looked a bit surprised, but smiled again. "I had not considered that, but he makes a point. There were a number of witches and wizards from prominent families who disappeared,, and their families simply told everyone that they went abroad. Many, including the Malfoys apparently, assumed that at least some of them were bitten. Have no fear, Harry, this will be general knowledge within a month if not sooner."

The buzz started in the castle at breakfast the next morning. Draco had gotten some information out of his father, and several other students apparently drew the same conclusions that Draco had from the events noted in the social pages of the Prophet. That there was now a cure for vampires swept through the castle population like wildfire, and then a second rumor, that Severus Snape was the man who brewed the potion followed right on its heels. That rumor was initially not believed at all among the Gryffindors ("Really, how could that git possibly be behind something as blatantly humanitarian as this? Seamus had demanded at the table one breakfast before Harry arrived), although even they eventually conceded that all elements of the story pointed to him as the likely brewer.

It was still a shock when a brown owl from the Ministry brought a notice that Severus was to be awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class.


	27. Ch 104 Recognition and Premonition

Chapter 104 – Recognition and Premonition

The owl from the Ministry arrived just as Severus and Harry were getting ready to leave for breakfast. It was a huge bird, with an enormous parchment envelope tied to its leg. Once freed of its burden, it accepted some owl treats from Harry and took off, with much skreetching and flapping.

The envelope was covered with blobs of sealing wax and ribbons, and Severus eyed it suspiciously. Harry had no reservations. "Go on, then, open it! Looks official – what is it?" he insisted.

Turning it over a few times in his hands with a look of misgiving on his face, Severus finally broke the seals, scattering chunks of hardened wax all over. He extracted a parchment adorned with even more ribbons and seals, which he unfolded carefully. Harry had moved over next to Severus so he, too, could read whatever this was. It was Harry who exclaimed first "An Order of Merlin – that's fantastic! Congratulations!" Seeing his bondmate's sour expression, he continued in a softer voice "And this is not apparently a good thing. What's the problem?"

"No particular problem. I'm just not sure that the vampire potion is behind this. I can't imagine that enough people know about that, officially, for anything like this to have been done, and this fast."

"Maybe the lycanthropy potion has been tested? Might they have done that and not invited you?" Harry wondered. He did see the timing issue, and sensed that it bothered Severus, although he wasn't entirely sure what was wrong about it. This is an Order of Merlin, after all, and Harry could not imagine anyone more deserving.

"I'll discuss this with the Headmaster. I'm really not sure what this is all about."

Convinced that he would never understand the Slytherin mindset that saw conspiracies and ulterior motives in everything, Harry simply shrugged. "Well, anyway, congratulations. You sure do deserve this."

Word about the honor to be bestowed upon the Hogwarts Potions Master was the talk of the entire student body at breakfast, as the Daily Prophet seemed to have learned of it many hours before Severus himself heard. When he took his seat at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, Harry was able to snag a copy of the newspaper as it was being passed around. The picture on the front page was the one taken of Severus as he stood with Harry after they returned from the Winter Lands, complete with the windblown hair and the leathers that looked so remarkable on him. The headline blared "Order of Merlin for Potter's Bondmate," and suddenly Harry understood Severus' concern. He scanned the accompanying article quickly, and was relieved to note that it did speak about Severus' contributions to the wizarding world; his worst fear after seeing the headline was that the Ministry was awarding the Order of Merlin to Severus just because he was Harry's bondmate – that would have been horrible. It appeared that the lycanthropy potion had been tested the day before and that Merik Volpine was now a magical animagus just like Remus Lupin, no longer a werewolf.

Harry looked to Hermione for her take on the news. She always seemed to understand the context of things, and could explain the larger picture.

"The Prophet's article actually goes into some detail about Professor Snape's lycanthropy potion, and that is definitely presented as the driving force behind this award. There's mention, way at the end of the article (Harry had to smile – she was probably the only person in the room to have read that far) that the test was conducted before a number of members of the Potions Master Guild, and with Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Edward Aventine as witnesses, and there's mention that Lord Aventine appears to have been cured of his vampirism. The Prophet wrote that he was observed at the meeting to have been drinking tea and eating a biscuit. Nothing about how that came about, but it certainly invites readers to draw their own conclusions," she lectured, for the benefit of Harry as well as Ron, Neville and Seamus, who were all listening in.

"Then why use a headline that calls Severus "Potter's Bondmate" instead of giving his name?" Harry asked. "I had absolutely nothing to do with this. Why mention me at all?"

Even Ron had the answer to that. "Because your name will sell more papers, Harry! Yes, loads of people will recognize the name Snape, but everyone knows you."

Harry seemed only partially mollified. Looking again at Hermione, he sought further clarification. "Nothing in there suggests that Severus is getting this because of me, does it? He'll be livid, or worse, if there's any suggestion at that."

Hermione smiled and shook her head. "No, the Prophet is actually very complimentary about the potions work, and how this will enable many afflicted with lycanthropy to rejoin society fully. There is not a whiff of suggestion that you were the reason for this."

Luckily, Harry was looking rather intently at Hermione and did not see the look that passed between Ron and Neville when Harry predicted how Severus would react if the article suggested that the Order of Merlin was being presented to him because of Harry. They would probably never get used to the fact that Harry was bonded to the man, but that Harry had come to understand how he'd react to things appalled them.

Over at the Slytherin table, it had been automatically assumed that Potter had exerted his influence to get this honor for their Head of House, although as Slytherins, they were quite pleased that their Head of House was getting the honor. Draco, like Hermione, had actually read the article, and was pointing out that the man had brewed a potion that the Potion Masters Guild was certifying as a potential cure for lycanthropy, surely a contribution to society worthy on its own of the honor. He also targeted a few of his friends with more of a social bent. "Pansy, didn't you notice the reference to Lord Aventine at the end of the article? Including mention of the fact that the man was at the session drinking tea and munching on biscuits? What does that tell you? Why would that be in this article? They know that Snape also created the potion to cure vampires."

Pansy was among those who had not read (and had no intention of reading) the entire article, so this was the first she'd heard of Lord Aventine's presence at the meeting. Of course, she knew the man was a vampire, so it was quite amazing that he was now seen eating and drinking like a human. Even so, she'd never fully embraced the notion that vampires could be cured.

"Honestly, Parkinson! Don't you read between the lines?" Draco replied. That sort of statement was the ultimate challenge to a Slytherin, guaranteed to capture her attention, as well as the attention of everyone else seated at that end of the table. He took advantage of this opportunity to spell it all out for them. "Aventine is a known vampire, so the fact that he's been cured is going to be obvious to everyone. But haven't you gotten invited to a suspiciously large number of parties and receptions and teas over the next month being thrown by their families to welcome people back from vague trips abroad? Some of those people have been "abroad" for years, for Merlin's sake, and they left with no warning or preparation! Didn't you or your parents ever suspect what was behind those sudden disappearances? Don't you see a connection to what happened to Aventine and their returns home, all at the same time?"

Draco looked at Pansy and the others listening in on this conversation with impatience. "Why do you think they'd even bother mentioning Aventine in this article? This confirms that Snape had a hand in the vampires being cured! That's not something he did publicly, so the Ministry didn't cite it in making the award, but I'll wager that additional contribution from Snape is behind this decision, too."

Slowly, heads started to nod. When you considered all the facts, the way Draco explained them, that did seem to be the only possible outcome. A few also considered that Draco usually had inside information, especially with his father now sitting on the Wizengamot. The Slytherins were now quite comfortable that his interpretation was correct

Up at the Head Table, Severus looked particularly sour. Albus had been waiting for him at the front entrance to the Great Hall used by those seated at the Head Table. "Did you hear from the Ministry this morning, Severus?"

"An owl arrived as we were about to leave for breakfast. I admit to a certain concern about the honor, as I'm not aware of any public contribution on my part to warrant such a tribute," Severus replied.

"I got a report from Remus late last night. The Potion Masters Guild scheduled the test of your potion as soon as someone decided that one of potions they brewed following your instructions was ready, with no notice to anyone." To Severus' look of alarm, he added "Yes, foolish, not waiting for the time you told them to let the potion mature. But they went ahead anyway. You know that their protocol favors testing without the presence of the submitter, so it was mainly a matter of getting Merik Volpine there. They also invited the Daily Prophet to witness this. Fortunately, Sirius and Remus were at the Ministry last night. Sirius had coached Remus in short order on how to do the animagus transformation, and he was able to do the same for Merik. Merik always was good at Transfigurations, even when he was a student, so with Sirius' coaching and Remus' encouragement, he was fine. He took the potion and made it through all through the transformations, and he's cured now. It's all over the Prophet this morning. As it happened, Edward Aventine chose yesterday to attend to Wizengamot matters, so when he heard of the trial of the lycanthropy potion, he asked to join Sirius and Remus. He has said nothing about his situation, but one look at the man and you can see he's no longer a vampire. I understand he made rather a point of helping himself to a cup of tea and some biscuits and consumed them where all could see. That touched off quite a fuss, although I suspect he confided only to the Minister about how his cure came about. Anyway, for once, the Ministry chose to act ahead of public outcry, and Minister Bones announced that you'd be awarded the Order of Merlin, which is the lead story in the Prophet."

Severus took it all in, as a headache began to brew, and he heaved a heavy sigh. "Thank you for the warning, Headmaster. I do wish they'd given precedence to the success of the lycanthropy potion, and waited a bit on anything for me."

Albus genially patted him on the back. "Oh, all's well and all that, Severus. Congratulations, on both the proven potion and your Order of Merlin. Come along – I believe I overheard the house elves talking about chocolate chip pancakes this morning!"

X X X X X X X X X X

Voldemort was developing a headache of his own as he reworked his strategy at Riddle Manor. He grew wearier by the moment of the devoted flatterers with whom he had surrounded himself, who, for all their constant praises and expressions of devotion, could not seem to do anything right.

He reflected back on his original plan with a weary, sad sigh. It had all been so simple. The spell he cast, drawing power off his unsuspecting Death Eaters and broadcast through the ley lines so clearly described by Salazar Slytherin, was supposed to end the battle before it could begin. Everyone he did not favor should have been long dead, even the healthiest of them dead by now of dehydration.

Instead, that blasted Potter woke all the ones with magic, and that meddlesome Dumbledore was no doubt in on the development and casting of a spell to preserve the muggles while they slept off his sleeping spell. All that planning, for naught. Now, when he should have been basking in the dawn of a new era of his own design, he was reduced to planning a more traditional, messy war against those he despised, if he wanted to achieve that new era.

The worst part of all this was that this was no longer something he could do on his own. Once he'd decided to use a sleeping spell, he had no need to have his Death Eaters around him all the time; if anything, they were a liability. There was always the risk that one of the more boastful of them would tell someone else if they figured out what he planned to do. Driving them away then made it now that much harder to round them up again. Something also was impacting the Dark Marks. He'd heard that Potter had done something to remove all the Marks not long after he'd cast his spell, which was an annoyance, but he'd been able to persuade a fair percentage of his Death Eaters to take the Dark Mark again. But now the damned Marks did not stick at all – within days, they were all gone again!

Plus, his Death Eaters alone were never going to be sufficient army if this war had to be fought in the traditional way. He never anticipated the need to secure allies, either among like-minded wizards beyond those who took the Dark Mark, or other magical creatures. He had developed a list of beings who had been mistreated by wizards and began dispatching his loyal followers to make contact and begin discussions about potential alliances.

The giants were the first with whom he made contact, and he was reasonably confident that they'd fight on his behalf, although he did get a sense that the fools did not really trust him any more than they trusted wizards in general. Trolls could usually be manipulated. However, with such pitifully stupid creatures, the concept of "loyalty," to say nothing of more intricate battle plans, was most likely beyond them.

As much as his pure blood recoiled at the notion, he knew he needed the vampires. They were a group driven out of traditional wizard society and subjected to its worst scorn and treatment, and he was confident that they would rush to his side. He'd sent out several emissaries to make contact with the clans, but to his surprise, no one could find them! There were many thousands of vampires here in Great Britain alone, and as they were not welcome in the wizarding world, most of them allied with one of the dozen or so clans.

Voldemort had even insisted on visiting a few of the clan compounds to see for himself what was being reported to him by his minions. The houses were all standing, not so much as a broken window or loose porch rail in sight. The insides were clean and neat, too. There was no sign of struggle or attack. But there were no vampires, either.

It never occurred to Voldemort that the absence of any personal effects was significant. He'd never spent any time learning about the daily lives of vampires, and assumed that once they'd been bitten and crossed into this new reality, they wanted to be rid of any reminder of their former lives. He was not aware that most actually surrounded themselves with reminders of their human time. He had no way of knowing that the vampires had taken all of their personal mementos away with them, when they each returned to their families from their long sojourns "abroad," now that they had been cured of vampirism. He himself was not part of the wizarding society preparing to welcome these travelers home, so he had no growing stack of invitations like Draco Malfoy's to suggest that something was going on. He also had no interest in the goings-on of the wizarding world in general, so he'd never bothered to subscribe to the Daily Prophet. He thus did not know that the most well-known vampire was now attending meetings, where he was observed drinking tea and snacking on biscuits.

Voldemort simply returned to Riddle Manor and thought on what other groups were sufficiently disenfranchised by wizarding society to want to side with him in a battle against it.

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry had accepted Neville's invitation to join him in the greenhouses during his free period at mid-morning. He'd gotten totally irritated with the snarky comments directed to him or that he'd overheard in the castle about Severus receiving the Order of Merlin, suggesting that most of his classmates actually learned what little they knew of current events just from the headlines in the Daily Prophet. More than a few were firmly of the opinion that Harry had orchestrated this honor. Everyone knew that Severus had brewed a potion that cured Remus Lupin of lycanthropy, as the hearing at the Wizengamot had been extensively covered by the Prophet and Harry knew they'd all seen it. The possibility that Severus had also brewed a cure for vampirism had been going around the castle for weeks now, so the smart assumption would be that the rumors were true. Knowing then that Severus had conquered two of the most persistent and debilitating scourges of the wizarding world with his potions, how in Merlin's name could anybody wonder at all why the man was being awarded an Order of Merlin? As annoyed as this made Harry, he could only imagine the impact this nonsense was having on Severus. He needed a breather.

When they reached the greenhouses, Neville put on his dragonhide gardening apron, stuffed some shears and gloves with large dragonhide gauntlets in the pocket, and grabbed his clipboard. Harry laughed at the sight. "You look like you are going into battle! And here I am protected only by my student robe"

Neville looked awkward, as he often did, and muttered something about wanting to be ready should he need to do some quick pruning or clean-up. Harry just smiled at him good-naturedly, and tagged along as his friend made his rounds through the greenhouses. Neville's rounds consisted of a plodding stroll up and down the long rows, taking notes about things that needed to be done later, and every so often donning the gloves and gently (or sometimes not so gently) using the shears to control a wandering root or too-large branch. Harry made sure to stand well back and out of harm's way when Neville tackled his chores; he knew that there was good reason that the apron and gloves were made of dragonhide.

More to make conversation as they walked along, Harry asked if Neville had heard recently from Nitrocris. A shy, but surprisingly warm, smile came over Neville's face. Well, well!

"I got a letter from her just yesterday. The mourning period for her uncle and cousin ended and she's been busy. She said she was going to move her family off to a wizarding community outside of Cairo, to get them away from her and her government at Thebes, but her advisor, the one she likes, persuaded her to keep them closer so they can't plot against her. Isn't that awful, that her own family would act that way to her?"

Neville almost immediately realized that was a very insensitive thing to say to Harry, given that he seemed to have an uncle, aunt and cousin just as bad if not worse. He looked mortified, and shrugged as he muttered "Sorry."

Harry patted him on the back. "It is awful, but it's not uncommon at all," he offered by way of accepting the apology.

"Anyway, she's getting her government set up, weeding out the people her uncles had put into power, defining her own path. She has amazing plans, you know? She's almost as smart as Hermione, she thinks of things and sees connections the same way. She talks a lot about her time here, very grateful to you for having invited her."

"And I'm really glad that she came," Harry responded, thinking to himself that this sounded like a rather significant correspondence going on between Nitrocris and Neville. "She had so little contact with people outside her family, and as you said, they didn't have her best interests at heart. I'm glad she got to meet people here." He smiled broadly as he added, with a soft jab of his elbow into Neville's ribs, "Particularly you, it seems."

Neville offered a sheepish smile, but Harry saw the blush that crept across his face. Suddenly, Harry understood the meaning of the path he'd seen before Neville a while back, showing distance and sand.

Well, well, WELL!

The two friends continued on Neville's rounds, until, as they entered the next greenhouse, they ran into Petunia, tending to the row of plants that were "hers." Neville looked terribly uncomfortable, but nodded to her and clearly intended to just move along as quickly as possible, in deference to Harry. To Neville's surprise, Harry very calmly stopped to speak to his aunt, and gestured for Neville to continue on without him. "I'll catch up with you at lunch, Nev. Thanks for the chat."

Petunia gave Harry a suspicious look as she wiped her hands after removing them from the large leather gloves, but said nothing.

"I haven't seen you in quite a while, Aunt Petunia. I just wanted to stop and ask if all is well," Harry began. Petunia continued to look at him with suspicion and some distaste, but the aggressive hostility she'd displayed whenever he spoke to her before was gone. It wasn't much progress, but it was something.

""Well, it's been no bed of roses, but I've managed. I was looking forward to going home, and a bit disappointed when the principal said that the school was going to stay open through the summer. I assume that means we have to stay here."

Harry did not take the bait, although he wasn't entirely sure if she really intended to goad him. "The Headmaster heard from the Ministry of Magic that they do not believe that the muggles will be waking up for another month or so, based on the tests the medical staff at St. Mungos has run. We have some students at Hogwarts who are muggle-born, so their families are all here and they have nowhere else to go, and even in the magical world, things are tense, so he decided we'd just keep the school open through the summer." With a slight shrug, he added "You really should stay here until Uncle Vernon and Dudley wake up – they'll be fine until they wake, and don't really need tending. But if you took them back to Privet Drive now, you'd be on your own. It would probably be safe, I suppose, but there would be no one to call if you had a problem, and food for you would be a problem. You'd only have what's in your cupboard, and likely no way to get more. But don't feel that you're being held here against your will. If you really want to leave, I'll make sure that you are brought back to Privet Drive."

That subtle reminder that Harry had some sway in the magical world seemed to bring her up short, and she considered the scenario he described. The food issue did not bother her too much, but the idea that she'd be on her own and might be in danger was something that concerned her. "Well, maybe it would be best if I stayed here until the three of us can go back together."

The mention of her Vernon and Dudley brought to mind another issue. "By the way, I went to visit Vernon and Dudley in the Infirmary the other day. It was very disturbing to see them just sleeping in beds, with no monitors or intravenous drips! This cannot be acceptable medical care – how can the nurse know that they are well if there is no means to monitor them, and how on earth are they getting sustenance? I fear for what they will be like when they wake! Is this all part of the National Health Service? If someone presents Vernon with a bill for his care here, I am sure he will have strong words, indeed, about that!"

Harry nearly burst out laughing at the things that occupied his aunt's mind. "They are just sleeping, you know, they're not sick. The magic that made them go to sleep is also now keeping them healthy while they sleep – they are not in danger of starving or dehydrating. They'll be just like they were when they wake up. There are muggles sleeping all over the world, almost all in their homes, or stores or offices, some even in their cars. When they do wake up, they'll be fine, too."

"Then why were we brought here?" Petunia asked, somewhat less demanding than usual.

"Because right after everyone was sent to sleep, we didn't know that we'd be able to change the magic in the sleeping spell to make it protect the muggles while they slept. The original sleeping spell was just to make people sleep, and if they did not get water, they would die of dehydration. We started bringing all the students' families here right away. If we could not come up with a way to save everyone, we would at least save our families."

Now Petunia looked totally perplexed. "You asked those two hooligans to come to my house and bring us all here?" A belch escaped; apparently "hooligans" was sufficiently negative to invoke Severus' spell.

"Actually, I was unconscious after I cast the spell to wake everyone with magic. But my friends immediately got together to work out the rescue plans. I understand that there was some discussion about what to do about you, but in the end, they felt I'd want them to get you. So here you are. And, no, the Hogwarts Infirmary is not part of the National Health Service. I'm also pretty sure that there will not be a bill presented to Uncle Vernon for his and Dudley's stay in the Infirmary, nor for your room and board for your stay in the castle. We don't use muggle money here, anyway. If there is a charge, I'll pay it."

In Harry's mind, he had ample money and was certainly able to offer to pay for something if payment was needed. It had nothing to do with whether or not the Dursleys deserved this assistance, but entirely with the fact that he was in a position to help them. On the other hand, the offer puzzled Petunia profoundly, because in her mind, that calculation would be reversed. It did not matter if she was completely able to provide what was needed, but it hinged on her opinion as to whether what was needed was deserved. He watched her process his offer with curiosity, while she directed a most peculiar look at the boy. He thought he saw some guilt in there; she and Vernon and begrudged him even the smallest things, to the point of sending him all of fifty pence as a Christmas gift.

Petunia considered that they'd been at this place for two months already, and it sounded now like another month, so whatever the charge was, it was likely to be significant. Where on earth would he get money like that? And what was he up to, offering to pay their way? Petunia's inner thoughts on Harry's source of funds and surprising generosity were derailed because the word "money' triggered a question that had been on Petunia's mind. "Is there a bank where I could cash a check, or an ATM machine here where I could get some money? I wanted to go with some of the women into the town near here, and realized I have no cash with me."

"No, there are no ATMs around here; magic and machinery don't mix well. And you've learned that wizards don't use muggle money. The wizard bank in Diagon Alley can change muggle money, but there's not a branch here. If you need something, I can arrange for you to buy it in town – there's a magical way to access funds in the wizard bank. Or I'll give you some wizarding money, if you'd rather just have some Galleons."

Petunia was torn between shock that Harry would freely give to her what she and her family had denied him resolutely for years, and a certain venal curiosity about how this boy suddenly had a source of funds. Harry saw the cunning look on her face, and realized that years of living with Vernon Dursley had clearly worn off on her; she was probably calculating if there was some way to profit from whatever money Harry seemed to have in the magical world. Some things apparently did not change.

Harry turned to walk back to the castle, as he said "I'll have one of the house elves put some Galleons in your dresser drawer. If you need something that costs more, let me know which shop you'll need to visit, and I'll set up a payment arrangement so you can shop."

Petunia watched him walk away, a number of emotions warring within her. She knew that her Vernon would be all over the money issue: Did the boy have a source of funds, and if so, why hadn't they been given access to that money as they raised him? Goodness knows, there was a rough patch there with Vernon's business and the Smeltings fees for Dudley were substantial; they could have used that money!

But now Harry had offered financial assistance to her very freely and without reservations. Certainly, neither she nor Vernon would ever consider doing something like that. The offer seemed genuine. There had to be more to this than met the eye, and she could simply not puzzle it out. She was just glad that her time at Hogwarts was coming to an end soon – one more month, he said. She really missed her normal life, that must be what this is. She needed to get back to Privet Drive as quickly as possible, and then she'd feel much better.

For now, she worked her hands back into the thick leather gloves and determined to finish collecting leaves from the row before her before it was time for lunch.

For his part, as he walked back to the castle, Harry realized that he heard the ravens complimenting him on the manner in which he conducted himself with Aunt Petunia, one finding it particularly amusing that in doing the right and generous thing, he'd actually made her more anxious and distressed than if they'd had an argument. Then, the ravens began to whisper their secrets into Harry's ear.


	28. Ch 105 True Nature

Chapter 105 – True Nature

Harry's afternoon got off to a rocky start at lunch, because Neville had told his friends of Harry's visit with his aunt.

"Why in Merlin's name did you even talk to that woman?" Ron fumed, the food in his mouth threatening to land on the table with each word. "You realize, of course, that you could use magic here, no way the Ministry could come after you for underage wizardry. Were you planning to hex her, maybe?" he added, perking up when he realized that there might be an appropriate outcome and maybe his anger was a bit premature. He had been inordinately proud of his father after his mother told him of his right cross to the vile woman's chin, although his father looked very embarrassed about the entire thing and had sworn him to silence.

Harry's answer wasn't what he, or Neville or Seamus, had wanted to hear. "I hadn't seen her in a while, and just wanted to see if she was alright. We just chatted for a couple of minutes, guys. She's anxious to leave, I told her it looked like another month before the muggles woke up, but if she really wanted to take Uncle Vernon and Dudley and wait it out with them at home, I said I'd get it arranged."

As the boys maliciously speculated about the horrors that could befall this particular lone squib tending to two sleeping muggles, Hermione looked very thoughtfully at Harry. Not that she'd say anything in front of this lot, but she suspected there was a bit more to it than that. She'd have to try to get Harry alone later to get the full story.

It occurred to Harry that Petunia had asked a question about finances, and maybe this group, or more likely, Hermione, would know. "One thing she asked: does Hogwarts charge people who stay here? How does that work?"

Ron looked about to say something, but blushed a bit. Hermione, of course, stepped right in. "The Founders endowed Hogwarts with most of their fortunes, and many wealthy families have made gifts and endowments through the years. The School hasn't charged students to attend for centuries. If a name appears in the Enrollment Book because a child has strong enough magic, they are invited here, and all they have to pay for is their books, supplies and clothes. Did you think you were paying tuition?"

Harry shook his head with a shrug. "I have no idea. I guess I assumed that Professor Dumbledore took what I had to pay directly from my vault." That got looks from his friends; the details of Harry's finances were unknown to them, but if he didn't even know about something as potentially significant as tuition, maybe he had more in his Gringott's vault than they'd guessed. "Anyway, what about the guests? And the people in the Infirmary?"

"Same thing, Harry. Hogwarts made room for people invited here, and there is no charge, for rooms, or food or even being in the Infirmary. No one here will get a bill when they are ready to leave."

That struck Harry as extremely generous. No doubt there was something involved here about the wizarding world that had escaped his attention to this point, but he might figure it out at some point. At least it was one less issue to be sorted out with the muggles like Uncle Vernon when it was time for them to leave.

The ravens were distracting him with their continual whispering, and it was frustrating Harry that he really could not understand what they were trying to say to him. It was just a soft, persistent noise, but with just enough inflection that he was sure if he concentrated more, he'd find the distinct words. But even when he did concentrate as hard as he could, he could not make out what those words were. By late afternoon, when he finally got back to his rooms, he had a pounding headache.

He found the small pouch in which he kept his cash in the night stand on his side of the bed. He had withdrawn money from his Gringotts vault before doing his school shopping and heading to school, and he had held aside 50 Galleons to cover his spending money during the school year, for school supplies, trips to Hogsmeade and such. Given the events of this year, and Severus' insistence that he pay for pretty much everything, there were still 50 Galleons in there. Harry had no idea what ladies would spend on an afternoon trip to Hogsmeade – he and his friends bought butterbeers and candy mainly, never meals and he suspected people like his aunt would not be going into the other stores they frequented, so he had no idea what sort of things were on offer. He counted out 20 Galleons, which he guessed would pay for a nice meal or tea and probably some shopping, and summoned Dobby.

"Dobby, would you please take this" as he presented the little elf with a handful of the golden coins "and put it in the dresser used by Petunia Dursley?"

The little creature wrinkled his nose in distaste, but took the offered coins. "Harry Potter is too generous" he began, but he was suddenly overcome with the need to punish himself for challenging a wizard's request. Before he was able to lift a book from the nightstand with which to hit himself in the head, Harry had grabbed away the book and tried to placate Dobby.

"No, no, Dobby. You are right to point that out, it wasn't criticism. I took no offense and did not see that as anything wrong for you to do. Please, just put this into her top dresser drawer, no need to do anything else. You can do that for me, can't you?"

"Oh, yes, Harry Potter! Harry Potter can trust Dobby to do this! Dobby is honored that Harry Potter would trust him to do this!"

Harry was enormously relieved when the overly-grateful house elf finally blinked off to run the errand.

Severus found him sleeping in the chair that Severus himself usually occupied, close to the fire that was kept burning even in the summer to warm the chill air in the dungeons. Harry had tried sitting on the couch, and then the other chair, and finally Severus' favorite chair – he realized that he could catch a faint whiff of the herbs in the soaps that Severus used in his bath, and found that inhaling the scent seemed to calm him. After a few moments watching the flames and taking deep breaths, he'd finally nodded off.

Severus took the spot that Harry usually claimed on the couch, and studied the sleeping young man. He was a beauty, with his tousselled black hair framing pale skin. There was a tightness around his eyes, though. It wasn't enough to mar his beauty, but it suggested that he was distressed, or might even have a headache. Severus' far more craggy features contorted in a frown as he studied Harry and tried to diagnose what might be bothering him. Before he got too far with that, the startling green eyes fluttered open. The two men stared at each other for a moment, Harry trying to get his bearings, and Severus intent on uncovering the problem.

"Is something wrong, Severus? Why are you staring at me?" Harry asked, as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"You have a headache? Or are not feeling well? I can see tension in your face, and I was wondering what might be wrong," he replied, as he shifted closer to Harry.

After a couple of blinks to regain his focus, Harry heaved a sigh. "I have a bit of a headache. What time is it? I came here after Arithmancy – how long did I sleep?"

"It's just half past four, so you were probably asleep for just an hour or so. What do you think gave you the headache?" he asked as he leaned forward with his hands outstretched to massage Harry's temples. Once again, Harry was taken aback by the extraordinary gentleness that Severus could show as he sought out the proper spot on Harry's temples and between his eyes to which to apply pressure. Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on the feeling of those probing fingers gently moving back and forth. Severus held the pressure firm until he saw some easing of the tension around Harry's eyes, at which point Harry confirmed the success of Severus' assistance by opening his eyes.

Harry took a moment to stretch while he considered his answer. He was not entirely comfortable sharing the news of the ravens'.

"Harry, if you don't share what is going on, I am not going to be able to help you. I think we have a better chance at dealing with issues if you speak your mind."

"It's not that kind of issue. I noticed this morning on a walk back to the castle from the greenhouses that the ravens are back."

Severus' face darkened at that announcement. Before he could say anything, though, Harry continued.

"I could tell it was them right off, just like before, but once they started whispering, I couldn't make out any words. That's were I think the headache came from. I think I could hear inflections and sounds that should be words, but no amount of concentration made them clear enough for me to hear what they were saying. I tried, I really tried all afternoon. It was terribly distracting, and took lots of concentration, but it's just these noises."

Severus watched Harry intently for a few moments, assuring himself that, despite the news of the ravens, the boy was otherwise alright. Once he was confident that Harry was recovered from his headache, he stood and gently helped Harry stand as well. "I think we should pay a visit to the Headmaster's office before dinner. I'll firecall him to let him know we are coming."

Harry said nothing in response to that suggestion, but put on his school robes and stood by the door as he waited for Severus to stand after his brief chat with Professor Dumbledore. When that conversation was concluded, Severus swept to the door himself and the two walked quickly along the corridors.

"What is the problem, Severus? Why do we need to see the Headmaster?"

"Albus and I have had some conversations about your ravens, and I think it's time that we shared some of our thoughts about this with you."

Harry's initial reaction was anger, that once again others were talking about him, or things that pertained to him, without him being present. He felt the familiar frustration of being a pawn, someone for whom the moves were all determined by someone else. As he kept walking quickly to keep pace with Severus, some of the anger and frustration ebbed. The ravens were not the most exciting of things to him, but if Severus and the Headmaster felt it appropriate to spend their time discussing them, maybe this was important, just in some way Harry could not yet see. He was actually slightly curious by the time he and Severus had reached the stairway up to the Headmaster's office.

They were greeted by the Headmaster at the door, and shown to three chairs clustered in front of the fireplace. Albus studied Harry's face with some interest as they all took seats.

"So, my boy, I understand from Severus that your ravens have returned."

Albus made a statement, but the expression on his face made it clear that he expected Harry to respond to it.

"Yes, sir. Late this morning, as I was walking back to the castle from the greenhouses, I heard them. As I told Severus, I could not make out what they were saying. It was noises, and I was pretty certain they were speaking and if I just listened harder, I would be able to understand. I'm afraid that all I got for trying to listen harder was a headache, though."

Albus seemed to be weighing options or trying to reach a decision. Severus was having none of this delay, however.

"Headmaster, it is time that we share out suspicions with Harry. He should know what we believe is happening, if nothing more than to be sure he understands how critical it may be for him to tell us about these sort of events immediately."

Harry gave him a bit of a sideways glance; typical Slytherin. He couldn't just tell Harry that this might be significant, he had to set it out as some sort of deal.

Albus allowed the silence to build for a minute as he pondered Severus' statement. Finally, he steepled his fingers across his chest and with a sigh, nodded his head. "Yes, Severus, as much as I wish we did not have to do so, I think it is in the best interests of all of us that Harry know what we suspect is afoot. It might help us better analyze the information that we have, to make the best choices in the conflict to come." Turning his pale blue eyes on Harry, he took a deep breath and went on. "Harry, Severus showed me your extraordinary Heart Stone after you gave it to him. We were struck then how much it resembled what little we know about the Eye of Odin. You are probably the last person on earth to actually see the artifact; I am quite confident that it exploded in your hand and is no more. But, from reports of it through the centuries, and a few grainy photographs, we imagine that it looked like your Heart Stone."

"We wondered how that might have happened, and concluded, on a preliminary basis, that perhaps your mind's eye captured that image and it somehow became expressed in your Heart Stone. However, around the time of the Calling, you'd made reference to ravens counseling you and whispering in your ears, and at the Ministry in the aftermath of the Calling, you said you saw the path before Lucius Malfoy. What do you know about the Eye of Odin, Harry?"

Harry had not really given the Eye of Odin much thought for quite a while. Of course, the whole event weighed hugely on him all summer, with the death toll from the battle and then the explosion of magic once he snatched it from Voldemort's hand pressing in on him like a massive boulder, but it was about the deaths, not the Eye of Odin. "It made Voldemort invincible in battle, and that's about all I knew."

Albus nodded his head energetically at that. "Yes, yes. The Eye of Odin was regarded as conferring a power on the one who possessed it that could defeat anyone. But do you know why, or how it worked?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I've no idea, sir, sorry."

With a wave of his hand as if batting Harry's apology aside, Albus continued. "Not many do, Harry. The power of the Eye is not military might, nor personal or magical power, but vision, the access to information that others do not have. The legend of Odin tells us that his familiars were ravens, and they travelled the world and reported back to him things that enabled him to choose the best strategies, take the bold actions."

Harry, and for that matter, Severus looked puzzled by that. "But then why, when the Dark Lord attacked the school last summer, was he so successful against the Aurors? There was hardly a battle in the traditional sense, where superior strategy could prevail. It appeared that the Aurors were overmatched in power," Severus interjected.

The twinkle went out of Albus' eyes as he contemplated that. "Actually, that horrid outcome was not attributable to the power of either Voldemort or the Aurors. I've studied the field notes of that battle, and there was absolutely no reason that the Aurors could not have taken the day. Except for one thing. They believed that Voldemort was invincible with that relic, and it was their belief that made him so."

Harry leant forward in his chair. "How could that be? How could all those brave people die, for no good reason?"

Severus was wondering the same, and looked at Albus with the same intense curiosity as Harry.

"There is tremendous power in our expectations and beliefs. If we enter a battle believing we have no hope, that is often a self-fulfilling prophesy. I firmly believe that the Aurors went into that battle with no hope or expectation of a favorable outcome, and got what they expected. The only person involved in that battle who did not have that belief, who did believe that we could prevail against Voldemort, was the one who rode right up to Voldemort on his broom and grabbed the offending artifact right out of his hand."

Severus looked a bit skeptical at that. Those were brave, trained Aurors who went into battle that day, and he could not believe that they did not put up a strong fight. And yet they were beaten, just because they thought the Dark Lord was invincible? Harry was clearly wrestling with this notion as well, although Severus was glad that Albus' comments might shift some of the young man's guilt off his shoulders.

"And the ravens? Why on earth are they speaking to me?" Harry wanted to know.

This was the aspect of the situation that Severus and Albus had spoken about at some length, and Albus looked to the younger man to explain this part. Severus was not sure how Harry would take this next part, and was not sure that he was the best to share their suspicions, but he did want Harry to know and understand. He leaned toward Harry as he spoke.

"We suspect, Harry, that when the Eye of Odin exploded, which we think it did based on the Dark Lord's furious release of energy and not because of its own nature, some of the attributes within the stone were released and were captured by your power. We did not understand this at the time, but now that your true nature, and the extent of your power, is better understood, I think we see the pattern. It is likely not a coincidence that you captured some of the Dark Lord's power and abilities when you defeated him the first time. In the chaos of the rebounding Killing Curse, scattering the Dark Lord's being, you became a Parselmouth. Now again, in the chaos of the exploding Eye of Odin, you captured Odin's connection to his familiars and probably the sight that enables you to see the Paths of Destiny."

Harry looked horrified at this revelation, and sat mute, his large green eyes flitting between Severus and the Headmaster. Albus now leaned in as well, and placed his hand on Harry's forearm, hoping to console Harry in what seemed to be his bad reaction to unwelcome news.

"There is nothing to be afraid of, Harry. This is not a bad thing! Your talent as a Parselmouth has done great service to the magical world, has it not? You've been able to access knowledge and discoveries that had been lost to us for millennia. I would suggest that your capturing the skill of a Parselmouth has been an enormous boon to all of us! We spoke about this many years ago, my boy. It is not our abilities, but our choices that determine who we are. In your hands, with the choices that you are empowered to make, the skill of speaking and reading Parseltongue had been a blessing to many. I am confident that the new skills you have acquired will similarly be to the great benefit of our world, because you choose to use your powers for the good."

Albus leaned back with a satisfied sigh, and a final pat to Harry's arm. Harry still looked quite discomfited by the news, although some of the horror initially evident on his face was starting to ebb away. He looked to Severus, to gauge his reaction. Typical Slytherin – his face gave away nothing, but Harry thought he saw a flicker of something that might be approval in his eyes.

"This "seeing paths of destiny" thing – that's not very reliable, sir. I mean, sometimes, I can see a path and it all makes some sense, but that's only happened twice. That day in the Wizengamot, the path before Mr. Malfoy just appeared, but that's only happened once since then. After Severus and I spoke about it, I've tried to see if I could do anything to show me a path. It seems very intrusive (at that comment, Severus' eyes rolled slightly) so I've only tried with friends who I figured wouldn't mind, but I don't always see anything, and even when I have, I haven't understood what it meant. And today, all I got from the ravens whispering in my ear was a headache!"

Albus chuckled softly. "Not all skills arrive to us in full flower, Harry. You are a natural at some things – flying, for example. Your first time on a broom, you exhibited a level of skill that others cannot hope to achieve even with years of practice, according to Professor McGonnagal. Your experience with Parseltongue, being fully able to speak and apparently read it with ease, is another example of a skill that came naturally to you. But some of the other things you've learned since coming to Hogwarts have required hard work on your part, have they not? That's far from unusual. Severus and I wanted you to know our thoughts on this, because we want to work with you and help you develop these new skills. There are no textbooks on this, unfortunately; to many people, the Eye of Odin was simply a legend, until Voldemort arrived with it in his hands.

"The ravens are of greatest interest to us all right now, Harry. If they bring you images, or thoughts, or words, please, tell Severus or me right away. Something that seems like nonsense to you might be very significant, in some other context. Please, help us."

Harry seemed to have calmed down a bit now. "But, sir, today, all I heard were indistinct whispers, nothing at all clear, no vision, nothing else."

"Ah, but Harry, that in itself is helpful! The Daily Prophet was persuaded to keep news of some of the recent events out of the paper, but attacks continue, in England and throughout the world. There is not a pattern yet. There were several more demons summoned in the week after the first ones were summoned and banished, but that seems to have stopped. Nothing like that has occurred in a month now. There are attacks by groups of witches and wizards believed to be Death Eaters, on more remote magical communities, but nothing more than minor acts of vandalism in Diagon Alley. There are random attacks in the muggle world, too. I am in regular touch with the Ministry, and they are in constant contact with other wizarding governments. All in all, we would say that it is relatively calm now."

"The calm before the storm?" Harry softly suggested.

Albus nodded. "That is very possible. That is why we want to know whatever your ravens share with you. At some point, we do expect Voldemort and his followers to take some greater step, and I hope that the ravens will have news that will help us prepare for whatever they are planning to do."

"Sir, you know I will do all that I can. If I hear or see anything, I will alert you or Severus right away."

Albus smiled, and his eyes were twinkling again. "I know that you will, Harry, and I appreciate it. Now, now, dinner will be in a few minutes – we don't want to be late!" He stood and shooed the two out of the office.

Severus pulled the door open onto the landing before the revolving stairs down from the tower and Harry stepped through, but he did not head toward the stairs. "Can we speak for a few minutes, Severus?" he asked, some distress still evident in his voice.

Severus followed Harry into his office, and spelled on lights and a small fire in the grate. He thought of asking what was wrong, but decided to allow the tempo of this conversation to be led by Harry. He would wait to hear what was on the young man's mind.

Harry stood by the fireplace, idly poking at a log with the toe of his boot, soberly watching the flames flicker. After a few moments, he turned.

"Am I a freak, Severus? A magical sponge? What other things am I sucking up from the environment, that I've already managed to capture a new language, a sight I can't see with, and someone else's magical familiars?"

Severus' heart ached to see the panic and self-loathing in Harry's eyes. He closed the distance between them in two steps, and gently folded Harry into his arms.

"You will not speak like that, Harry. You are not a freak. That almost sounds like your aunt speaking," he said with great passion and conviction. "You are a more powerful wizard than many of us ever imagined could exist, so we do not have all the answers in matters pertaining to your magic. I think I would compliment you on the skills you've managed to acquire – they have come in very useful so far. I have great hopes that these new familiars will provide us with information that will enable the Light to prevail in the battle that is coming."

Harry just held on tight to Severus for a few minutes, ear pressed against his chest, allowing the sound of Severus' heartbeat to calm him. He finally took a shaky sigh and then a half-step back.

"Why do you think the demons have stopped? Are they no longer being summoned?" Harry asked, changing the subject somewhat.

"I had occasion to discuss that very thing with Lucius the other day," Severus replied. "There were several demons summoned that first day, and several more over the next week, and then they stopped. Clearly, there are people in the Dark Lord's camp who are capable of summoning demons. Granted, they were not summoning Elder Demons, but the ones responding to their summons were quite sufficient to inflict a good deal of damage. So why stop, indeed? Lucius heard from a business contact that the Death Eaters didn't stop trying to summon demons; he has had some reports he regards as reliable that Death Eaters were seen performing the spells and ceremony required to summon a demon, as recently as last week. What worked before is not working now.

"He had done some research on the subject of demon summoning years ago for the Dark Lord, and consulted his notes and some old reference materials. His theory is that the demons are aware that just as there are wizards summoning them, there are other wizards here who are capable of banishing them. In light of the fact that the demons who have answered all the prior summons have never returned, he suspects that they are ignoring the summons now. While demons at their cores want only to wreak death and destruction, Lucius is now of the opinion that they have a surprising instinct for self-preservation. They choose to ignore a summons and the opportunity to wreak havoc in this world rather than answer the summons and likely be banished from existence. If this is true, it is evidence of a shocking level of thought and reasoning from creatures we had believed to be mindless embodiments of evil."

Harry shuddered at that. "Mr. Malfoy still has contacts with Death Eaters?"

Stroking Harry's hair, Severus could not help but smile at the naivete of his young bondmate. "Lucius is one of those people who has contacts everywhere. He cultivates that lack of clarity as to his real agenda. He has contacts among those aligned with the Light and Dark, and he's in regular touch with the most reputable members of our world, and scum that aren't even accepted among the denizens of Knockturn Alley. I'll wager he's probably even got someone in his web who can feed him information about the muggle world."

That last surprised Harry. "But he's always spouted such vile sentiments about muggles."

"I doubt all of his contacts are direct, among many who share information with no idea where it ends up. He just knows, better than anyone I've ever met, how to use his wealth and influence to have a continual flow of all sorts of information, on all sorts of subjects, flowing his way pretty constantly."

"Might he be a spy?" Harry wondered.

"Unlikely. He's totally self-centered. It's all for his own use or profit." Severus saw Harry about to speak, and assumed he was going to protest at least part of what he just said. "And if he is now on a different path, I assume the use or profit might extend to the furtherance of whatever lies down that path, but I'd still venture that Lucius' information is flowing, and he's planning to use it for his own purposes."

Harry accepted that conclusion with a small smile.

"So, what sort of things are going on now out there?"

"Albus does not share all the news with me, of course, but I am aware of attacks on some families who live in fairly isolated communities. In the muggle world, several buildings have been blown up, damage done to some of their infrastructure." Severus wanted to ask some questions of his own. "And what other paths have you seen, since we last discussed this?"

Harry figured he'd hear from one more person about his aunt today. "A while back, I ran into Aunt Petunia when I was walking with Neville in the greenhouses, and while she was rather horrible, I saw a path before her. That's the only other time a clear path appeared like that."

Severus wrinkled his nose in distaste at anything to do with Harry's horrid aunt. "And other times?"

"Well, I tried looking for the paths of my friends, but the only one I could see was Neville's path, sort of. It wasn't clear at all. I got the impression of great distance, and I saw sand. That was it. I first thought it meant that Neville would travel. I figured he was going to maybe go into the business of sourcing exotic plants, maybe some from the desert or something. Now, I think it means something different."

Severus eloquently arched his eyebrows at that, clearly demanding additional details. "It turns out that Neville is still in touch with Pharaoh Nitrocris, and she had seemed rather sweet on him while she was here. Now I think it might mean that his path will lead him to her. But who knows? It's all pretty vague and non-specific most of the time."

Severus considered that, and he had to concur. "All things considered, Harry, I think the ravens are the most significant right now. Please share anything, anything at all, that they show you or tell you. Right away. If you do see a path, tell me. It might or might not mean anything, but I don't want you carrying this burden yourself. I am by your side. I will help you, at every turn."

Harry closed his eyes, as a feeling of happiness and a warmth he'd never experienced before washed over him. When he opened them, to the strikingly handsome face of his bondmate, the moment was broken as his stomach growled loudly. With a sheepish smile, he took Severus by the arm and pushed him toward the door. "As the Headmaster said, we don't want to be late for dinner. And there is a squib class after, tonight. I think I heard that Hagrid is bringing a Blast-Ended Skrewt – wouldn't want to miss that, would we?"


	29. Ch 106 Final Exams

Chapter 106

Harry slid into his usual spot between Hermione and Ron at dinner. Ron was busy talking to Neville and Seamus, so Hermione had her chance to speak quietly to Harry.

"Harry, what was the story – the whole story – about speaking to your aunt? You looked upset at lunch about it," she whispered, her concern for her friend evident on her face.

"It was nothing, really, Mione. I saw Aunt Petunia working in the greenhouses when I went with Neville on his rounds during a free period. I just stopped to inquire if she was well. Nothing more. She wasn't nearly as bad as she used to be." Hermione reacted to that with a chuff; "not as bad as she used to be" was not exactly praise given the very low point from which Petunia began, and Harry had to smile in acknowledgement. "She wants to go home, and she asked a few questions about money – would there be a bill, that sort of thing."

"What did you tell her? Did she want anything from you?" Hermione persisted.

"I offered to have someone take her, and Uncle Vernon and Dudley back to Privet Drive, if she wanted to wait out the final month on her own. She wondered how she could get access to her accounts, that sort of thing. I told her I was pretty sure there would not be a charge for her and her family's stay here, but that I'd cover it if there was, and I asked Dobby to bring her some Galleons so she could go into Hogsmeade with some of the women this weekend. Why on earth do you care about all this?"

"Because you looked very stressed all afternoon! If the problem wasn't your aunt, then what was wrong?"

"Oh." As he'd observed to himself many times before, Hermione missed nothing. "That had nothing to do with Aunt Petunia. The ravens are back. I was trying to understand what they were saying, but I couldn't make out the words. I ended up with a headache."

"The ravens, Harry?"

"I told you about them, I'm sure. They came around the time of the Calling, and then I haven't seen them for a while."

"Do Professors Dumbledore or Snape know about this?" Now she was the one who looked worried.

Harry was impressed. This was fast even for Hermione. "I spoke to them about this before dinner." With a mere moment's hesitation, he decided to forge ahead and tell her the whole story. Who knew what Hermione would think of it? "I think you'll find this interesting. They apparently started wondering about all this when I gave Severus my Heart Stone for Valentine's Day, because according to them, my Heart Stone looks like what the Eye of Odin is supposed to look like."

Hermione remembered admiring Harry's Heart Stone, and her efforts to determine what gem it represented. It was certainly unlike anything she'd ever seen before, and nothing in her books suggested what it might be. The Eye of Odin? She'd have to look into that, over the summer.

"First, the ravens came around and began to show me things, tell me things. Then, I started seeing paths before people. Odin's familiars were ravens, and he was able to see the Paths of Destiny. Just like I ended up a Parselmouth when Voldemort got hit with the rebounding Killing Curse, they are now of the opinion that I absorbed some of the magic in the Eye of Odin when it exploded in my hand last June. It appears that I'm a human sponge for unstable magic."

Harry said that with remarkable calmness, given his original distress when the idea was presented to him. Hermione patted his arm, as if she understood how he'd felt originally about all this. "As soon as year-end exams are over, Harry, I'm going to do some research on all of this, and see what I can learn about the Eye of Odin, or if there is anything written about this phenomena of magical transferrence. I should have thought of that years ago, as soon as I heard that you were a Parselmouth!"

Up at the Head Table, Severus had watched Harry and Hermione whispering back and forth while the usual raucous conversations whirled around them at the Gryffindor table. Albus noticed Severus watching, and followed his line of sight. Albus leaned over toward Severus and observed, with a conspiratorial wink, "I suspect that Miss Granger has a whole new research project before her as soon as exams are over, if she can wait that long!"

The squib class that night was not as crowded as many, although Harry sat front and center, proudly in support of his friend Hagrid. He sat with his new friends, the princes. Hagrid paced nervously as he awaited his introduction so he could speak about magical creatures and show off a few prized members of his menagerie, and then he knocked the lectern over as he shuffled up to the front of the room. Severus had to agree with the assessment that Harry shared with him later – it was vintage Hagrid. The Blast-Ended Skrewt nearly escaped, the baby unicorn he held up for all to admire got so upset with all the fussing and cooing directed his way that he piddled all over the front row of attendees, and three squibs fainted at the sight of a five-foot wide hairy spider of some indeterminate breed.

The princes themselves looked a bit shaken by the spider, and seemed relieved when it was pushed back into its box and carried out of the castle by Hagrid. "I had no idea a bug could get so big!" Wills, the older prince, observed.

Harry laughed. "Oh, Hagrid has bigger, and worse! He's never met a creature that he's not willing to believe has a good nature, despite all evidence to the contrary. In my second year here, he actually hatched a dragon egg in his hut, and was quite upset when we had to send Norbert off to a colony."

"Dragons?" the other Harry gasped.

"Actually, there are a number of breeds of dragons. And sphinxes, too. Hagrid had a really interesting half horse/half bird, a creature called a hippogriff, named Buckbeak. The wizarding world is full of really amazing animals, but we're careful to keep them away from muggles. Speaking of which, I understand we're about a month away from muggles waking up. You both still working on how we explain what happened to them?"

"Your Ministry is working on that now. We suggested that Harry and I prepare some public service announcements to run continuously on the television. Muggles will know who we are, so hearing from us right off might ease some fears. They are working on messages now. Are you in touch with the Ministry on the matter of how this is all explained?" Wills asked.

Harry shrugged. "I've been focused on getting ready for my year-end exams here. If they have contacted Severus or the Headmaster, I suspect they are holding the Ministry off until I finish my studies this year. I'll have to ask Severus."

The other Harry leaned in, to speak softly. "There was some talk about having someone from the wizarding world join us in the announcements. I hope you don't mind, but we suggested that they consider using you. Some people in this world, well, they just look a bit strange. We're not sure how your average muggle would react to someone who looked or dressed so different. You, on the other hand, could pass for a muggle in a heartbeat."

Wizard Harry laughed in agreement. He could still remember his first stroll through Diagon Alley with Hagrid; the shops and goods on offer were astonishing, but not less so than some of the people he saw there. "I told you – I lived in the muggle world and didn't even know that I was a wizard until I was eleven. Yeah, there are definitely some people here who look very different, even if you put them in muggle clothes. If the Ministry asks me to join you in taping a message, I'll do it, of course."

The crowd of students who attended the squib class began departing as soon as the program ended, because year-end exams started the next morning. Harry left shortly after his conversation with the princes, and he found Severus waiting for him in the corridor.

"Still quite cozy with those two handsome, young squibs, I see," Severus observed sourly as the two started walking in the direction of the dungeons.

"Oh, please – they are British princes in the muggle world, I've explained all that to you. They told me that they've been working with the Ministry on how we're going to explain all this to the muggles when they awake. The Ministry is going to have them tape a message to run on TV, figuring that the muggles will recognize them and hopefully be accepting of what they say. They suggested that if we want to include a wizard on the message they tape, that the Ministry ask me. Do you know anything about that?"

Severus had his own questions first – "What do you mean by "taping," and what is teevee?"

Harry's barrage came to an abrupt halt. He forgot that Severus might not recognize references to even the standard muggle appliances. "TV is short for television. You've heard of television?" he asked.

"Well, I believe I've heard talk of this in some of my classes, and I know it is a muggle device that has some general entertainment purpose, but beyond that . . ." Severus allowed with an elegant shrug of his shoulders.

This probably needed more technical information than Harry had off the top of his head, but he felt he could take a whack at explaining. "Muggles have technology that enables them to send information and signals through radio waves and over wires and cables. The telephone (Harrys' questioning look as he offered that name was answered with a nod from Severus, indicating he knew what that was) allows muggles to speak with each other over distances, and television is a device that receives both voice and pictures, so muggles can watch and listen to whatever is being broadcast. They have news programs, sporting events, shows, all sorts of things."

"No conversing?"

"No, it's just one-way. You get the picture that you can watch on the TV and you hear the voice, but you can't carry on a conversation with it. Because the technology at one time used some kind of physical tape to capture the picture and voice, when someone records a message or a program or performance, or whatever, it's usually called "taping" it, even though I think they use technology today that doesn't rely on tape. Anyway, the Ministry wants the two princes to record a message that will be broadcast to muggle television sets. Muggles will probably turn on their TVs as soon as they wake up, if they are in their houses, to look for a news program to see what's going on. They'll see the princes, who will start the explanation. My question to you was, has the Ministry spoken to you or the Headmaster about this? Either what the message will be, or whether they'd like me to participate?"

Severus pondered the cleverness of muggles in coming up with something like this for a second before replying to Harry. "The Ministry has been in touch. I believe that they wanted the Headmaster, you and me to meet with Arthur Weasley to discuss what he'll be saying next Wednesday and what you plan on saying when you speak to the squibs. I expect that this final squib class will be well-attended, and will likely be covered in the Daily Prophet, as well. If the Ministry said anything about taping a message, it was not said to me nor was it passed along to me by the Headmaster. I'll mention this to him, tomorrow. For now, though, there is a little matter of your preparations for year-end exams. They begin tomorrow, if you recall."

Harry looked up at Severus to gauge the meaning of that jab. It seemed like a good-natured comment, because goodness knows, Harry had been studying for a while now, at least some of the time right here in their rooms. Severus had to realize that he took his schoolwork seriously. While their relationship had been moving toward a place where each was very comfortable with the other, every so often the "professor" in Severus jumped up and left Harry feeling uncertain. As he stood back to allow Severus to give the password to the portrait guarding their rooms and then followed him through to the sitting room, he considered how to reply. Harry decided to assume that the comment was to be received as a good natured attempt at humor; that's what he hoped it was, so he'd proceed on that basis.

He offered a weak elbow into Severus' ribs as he passed him, and commented. "Oh, yes, exams. Starting with Potions, if I recall correctly, Severus. Yes, I'm well aware of the exams. We covered Potions in the study group last week, very thoroughly." The chuckle that escaped Severus' stern visage confirmed that nothing more had been meant.

While Severus no longer rigidly followed his original pattern of allowing Harry privacy in the bedroom while he showered and got ready for bed, he usually did give Harry his space, unless the move into the bedroom was preceded by some intimate activity in the sitting room. Tonight, Severus gave Harry a few minutes' head start, before he followed him into the bedroom, and sat on his side of the bed waiting for Harry to finish his shower and come to bed.

It was a short wait, when Harry appeared, slightly flushed and damp, hair in total disarray, dressed in his preferred muggle pajamas. He gave Severus a questioning look as he got under the covers. Severus did look slightly distressed, so Harry wondered what was wrong. Severus did not leave him wondering for long.

"We heard today from the Ministry on something else, that I wanted to mention to you tonight. Nothing to worry about, but . . . well, I wanted you to know. The Ministry decided that it was not appropriate for me to administer the year-end exam to a class that included my own bondmate, so they have arranged for a member of the Potion Masters Guild to attend to the exam. Normally, the Ministry is involved directly only in OWLs and NEWTs, but someone over there mentioned this concern to Albus. He and I were initially very opposed to this meddling, although once we spoke about it, we decided that we should agree to this. He and I had already discussed the general approach this year's exam would take, so he was meeting this evening with whomever the Guild is sending to be sure that an appropriate exam is administered, whether the one I had prepared, or an alternative."

Harry looked stunned. "Do they not trust you? Or me?" He sounded very upset.

With a sigh, Severus shrugged. "That was my first question, and I was assured, several times, that is not it at all. Albus in particular took great pains to explain that, as unfounded and ridiculous as it all was, there were those who would always suspect something was improper, no matter how above board we both were, and that the better course of action was to cut the critics off before they could hint at anything. Neither of us should take offense, I am told. This will simply assure that our reputations and credibility are beyond any reproach."

Harry had not really considered that his bonding to Severus could result in such an indignity for the man, although he reluctantly recalled his first detention at Severus' hand, served with Professor McGonnagal for presumably the same reason. This was so unfair, although he could not think of a way to protest it. He patted Severus' arm. "They are asses, all of them. You would never, ever, do anything that was unethical."

Severus' expression lifted slightly, with what Harry suspected might be gratitude.

"Go, take your shower. I need my sleep – busy day tomorrow," Harry suggested.

Severus reached into the drawer in the nightstand and located a small vial of Dreamless Sleep, which he presented to Harry. "Not a night you want your sleep disturbed for any reason. Here, take a small dose at least, so you are fresh tomorrow. Sleep well."

The Potions exam was right after breakfast, and the group of sixth years trudged down to the dungeons with fluttering hearts and slow steps. The group waited in the hallway until the massive wood door was thrown open to admit them, although when that finally happened, it wasn't the dour face of Severus Snape glaring out at them with disdain. It was Andre Serrent.

Of course, only Harry recognized him, as his heart sank.

"Welcome to the Potions year-end exam for the sixth years, step in, one person to a table – we've expanded the room to accommodate you all. Get settled quickly. The time you waste here comes off the time you have to brew your potions," he offered in greeting

The students filed in quickly and for once, there was minimal jockeying for location as everyone found a table. Each table already contained a cauldron, an assortment of the tools that would be needed to prepare ingredients with which to brew a potion, and several bowls and dishes covered with cloths, presumably the potion ingredients. Curious looks were directed to the newcomer, even though, under the circumstances, there was little actual chatter speculating about who the tall and striking man was. Andre's eyes sought out the one student in the class he'd met before, and he graced Harry with a most unpleasant smile when he found him, before he addressed the class.

"I am Potion Master Andre Serrent. Given the unusual situation faced by Master Snape, administering a year-end exam to his own bondmate, (a comment that earned Harry several looks of intense sympathy from several of his yearmates) the Ministry suggested that someone else administer the exam at Hogwarts this year, and I was asked to step in. It was, of course, my pleasure to be of assistance. The exam consists of one potion, the recipe for which will appear momentarily. You will find the ingredients and tools on the table before you. Privacy shields will be placed around each of you, so your work, and your technique, will be entirely your own." With an imperious wave of his hand, he added "Begin."

Harry was perched nervously on the edge of the stool before his table, and realized the privacy shield went up when he discovered he could no longer see anyone else in the room. He saw the potion recipe appear on the blackboard at the front of the room. He was still reeling slightly at the discovery of Severus' former lover serving as proctor for this test, and knew he had to calm himself or his brewing would be a disaster. He did some deep-breathing exercises that Hermione had taught him, and tried to clear his mind. Suddenly it came to him. If Andre is in the classroom watching the students take the exam, he couldn't be with Severus! There was actually nothing to worry about. With a suddenly clear head, Harry read the recipe.

Draco had explained to the study group that the sixth-year Potions year-end exam was traditionally focused heavily, sometimes even exclusively, on technique, rather than theory or the ability to memorize a particular recipe. Slytherins tracked exams that way, to pass useful information along to their House mates about what to expect as they prepared for final exams. While Hermione had still insisted that they spend time going over all the other things they'd learned in Potions, Draco's warning had led to one full evening spent reviewing and brushing up on all the techniques they'd been taught over the years.

And it turned out that the Slytherins were right! This was a pretty straightforward potion, with just a few ingredients, but each ingredient had to be prepared in several different ways, and the brewing process itself needed to track the instructions precisely. But if you knew all the techniques, it would be just a matter of careful preparation and close attention to the recipe. Harry silently thanked Slytherin House for always looking for the angle, and finding and sharing this one. He took a deep breath and began.

Harry had learned most of the rudimentary skills in class, but after his discussion with Severus earlier in the year, when Severus had finally explained that the different ways of preparing an ingredient actually mattered to the outcome of a potion, he'd watched Severus' preparations very carefully when they'd been in the lab together. He'd seen the precision with which he used his knife and the total concentration that Severus showed as he worked, and he tried his very best to emulate Severus as he approached this potion. This was not about theory or creativity, just attention to detail. He could do it.

The potion in Harry's cauldron looked blessedly like the description of what was expected at every point as he worked. It turned blue just when the recipe said to expect that, and it became an opaque yellow at the right time, too. It thickened and thinned exactly as predicted. Harry realized, to his quiet amazement, that he was actually having fun doing this, with no caustic comments or worry about sabotage to disrupt his work. He determined that his potion was finished when it came to a final boil, now a pale pink color, and emitted a small burst of stars with each burst bubble, exactly as the recipe predicted. He carefully decanted a small portion of the finished potion into one of the small vials provided for that purpose, and sealed it firmly against any tampering. Just because nothing had happened yet did not mean that it was safe or prudent to let one's guard down.

That was a wise move, but not for the reason that Harry suspected.

There was a bit of commotion at the back of the room by the door just as the privacy shields were taken down and "time" called to end the exam. Apparently Master Dorester had come to Hogwarts with Andre, and spent the time that Andre was administering the Potions exam visiting with Severus, and the two had just entered the Potions classroom. Harry took his sealed potion vial in his hand, lest an errant sleeve send it flying, and turned around to see the new arrivals as he stood to bring his vial to the front of the room and turn it in. Master Dorester quickly spotted Harry and came over to greet him, very pleased that Harry remembered him as well.

"Mr. Potter, my boy, wonderful to see you again! I have had a most fascinating visit with my former student, Severus, who did me the great honor of allowing me to see some of your original source materials and translations. Such a talent, to read Parseltongue! It's been far too long since we had a trustworthy Parselmouth willing to read and translate some of the old works! It always amazes me, how much was known a thousand years ago, and how much we've managed to forget. And the work on the vampires – truly amazing." Master Dorester saw that Harry was about to say something, and he guessed what that was. "Yes, yes, I know that Severus did a great deal of hard work there – nothing to diminish his most notable contributions, no, nothing at all could do that! But your translation got him started. Such a scourge, and now it's been resolved. Just wonderful work!"

The very genial, if somewhat imposing Potions Master, could not help but notice the shimmering pink fluid in the vial held in Harry's hand. "You've finished the potion, haven't you, Mr. Potter? Wouldn't want to interfere in your completing an exam, after all." He took the vial from Harry's hand and assessed the color. "Well done, young man. Just the right hue. Good attention to technique and detail, just what good potion-making requires."

Singly and in small groups, all the students were now heading to the table at the front of the room to deposit their potion vials into a basket. Most of the potions were some shade of pink, although here and there, a red or purple potion was being handed over, and one poor Hufflepuff had produced a lumpy green substance. Master Dorester walked along with Harry, still holding onto the vial with his potion. When Harry reached the front of the room, he was prevented from turning in the vial he had just taken back from Master Dorester, as Andre suddenly held a vial up with a yellowish liquid and said loudly, "Ah, Mr. Potter, not exactly the potion we had hoped to get today! This color unfortunately suggests at least three lapses in the brewing preparation. Too bad."

Harry saw the set-up too late. If he or Severus protested, it would likely be seen as evidence that there was favoritism afoot. But Andre apparently had not considered that Master Dorester would have sought Harry out as quickly as he did. Master Dorester took the vial from Harry's hands and spoke up immediately. "Andre, there is some terrible confusion here! I took this vial directly from Mr. Potter's hands when I arrived here, as I wished to see what he'd done, and he brewed a perfect, pink potion. It has been in my hands from the moment I spotted him at his worktable until just seconds ago, when he took back this vial of potion to turn in to you. You have made a grievous mistake in identifying that vial in your hands as Mr. Potter's work product."

Andre recognized that his bid to discredit Harry's work with a substitute vial had failed, and he retreated immediately, causing Harry to wonder if he'd tried this before. For his part, Andre had recalled from the time he spent as Severus' companion that Severus had no interest in anyone whose skills and abilities were subpar. He also recalled the more recent experience of seeing Severus' display of affection toward Harry at the Ministry. He and Severus had parted on reasonably amicable terms some time ago, but he was still fascinated by the brilliant man, and harbored a hope that they might rekindle their relationship. This chance to supervise the Potions exam had seemed like an excellent opportunity to drive some sort of wedge between Harry and Severus, at least a chance to show Harry up as an incompetent brewer. Apparently, that was not to be. Andre put the vial he had produced back into his pocket, and accepted the vial from Master Dorester on Harry's behalf without a further word.

Severus had watched this entire exchange, and Harry could tell he was seething. Severus' already dark eyes managed to get even darker when he was furious, and there was emotion and anger just roiling off of Severus right now. As furious as Harry was himself at this ham-handed attempt to make him look bad, he was actually very pleased to see the anger in Severus on his behalf. More than anything, Harry wanted to get out of there before anything was said, and Master Dorester seemed to sense this.

"Andre, we should take the vials back to our offices in London so we can get started on grading this work as soon as we can. Severus, it was wonderful to see you again, my boy, and I hope we have the chance to have lunch soon, but Andre and I must leave now. Please tell Albus that I will take him up on an invitation to stay for lunch at some future date. Mr. Potter, a pleasure to see you again." With that, Master Dorester steered Andre, clutching a basket of all the vials from the test, out of the room.

An incensed Hermione walked against the tide of students leaving the classroom to descend on Harry as soon as the door closed behind the two departing Potions Masters. "I saw what that man tried to do, Harry! That was outrageous! He brought that vial with him and tried to pass it off as yours. Why on earth would someone try to do something like that?" Looking up at Severus she added "Can't you or the Headmaster do something about this?"

Severus had to smile, as much as it pained him to do so, at the staunch support that Miss Granger consistently showed to Harry. "Miss Granger, we appreciate your support, but Master Dorester has the matter in hand. He insisted that we get down here before the exam would be over, so I suspect he thought that Serrent had something planned. He made sure that he took Harry's vial from him and held on to it until Harry was ready to turn it in, so he could insist that Andre accept the real vial from Harry. I suspect he will closely supervise the grading of the exam potions, too. He will make certain that Andre has no opportunity for mischief."

Harry was slowing regaining his composure. "Thanks, Mione, for believing in me. It's a real shock to the system when someone tries something like that, you know?" Looking at Severus, he asked "Is this something he's done before?"

It was Severus' turn to feel a sharp pang of guilt, knowing in his heart that this act of treachery was directed toward Harry because he was bound to Severus. His relationship with Andre had ended a number of years before, but the relationship itself lasted a year, and Severus had never imagined that Andre was capable of something like this. Had he missed the signs? Or had Andre developed this horrific deceit in the intervening years?

"I don't profess to know all the things that Master Dorester knows, but it is probably telling that he has never seen fit to recommend Serrent for any teaching positions. He's a brilliant researcher, and usually a job working for the head of the Guild is a stepping stone to a prestigious position in a school or university, or in private industry. Serrent seems not to be going anywhere. There must be qualities that Master Dorester sees that give him pause to recommend him."

Harry saw the guilt in Severus' expression, and despite the fact that they had an audience, he gave Severus a one-armed hug. "I don't hold you responsible for him, Severus. Please, believe that. This is not your fault, and in any case, nothing actually happened. Just tell the Headmaster and make sure that Andre is not ever invited back to Hogwarts as a proctor."

Hermione felt honored that she was allowed to witness a display of affection between her best friend and the imposing Potions Master. She had hoped, for both their happiness, that there was a bond of affection growing between the two, but the proprieties of the wizarding world and the natural tendency of these two to shield their feelings provided others with scant evidence of the nature of their relationship. The ease with which Harry reached out to hug Professor Snape, and the fact that the Professor seemed to welcome the gesture, was a very encouraging development. She wanted Harry to be happy, and there was every reason to believe that he was happy with his bondmate. She wasn't sure why Professor Snape did not return the hug, though. It was very possible that he would not allow himself to do that in her presence just on principle, although she always wondered if he were as connected to Harry as Harry apparently was to him. Perhaps they did not share a reciprocal bond, after all.

X X X X X X X X X X

The rest of Harry's year-end exams happily did not include the drama of his Potions exam, a fact for which he was very grateful. He studied hard with his study group, and was hounded by Hermione to put in some extra time because of the classes he'd missed, and felt he acquitted himself well. This was the first year he actually felt pressure to get good grades. No one said anything to him about it, but he sensed that Severus would be disappointed if he did really poorly, as if Harry's grades somehow reflected on him and his influence.

The only break Harry allowed himself was on Sunday afternoon, when Mr. Weasley joined him and Severus up in the Headmaster's office, to discuss what they'd be saying to the squib class on Wednesday evening. It was a beautiful day, and Harry dearly wanted to spend some of it outside, but he trudged out of the Transfiguration classroom where the study group was meeting and joined Severus on the walk to the Headmaster's office.

The two entered the office to find Albus and Arthur chatting happily in chairs pulled up around one of the tables. Albus gestured for them to take seats in the other chairs at the table, and after greeting Arthur, they sat as well.

"Welcome, my boys" Albus began. "Such a beautiful day, almost a shame to waste it indoors, but needs must! Arthur was just about to bring me up to date on the Ministry's latest thinking on how we address the awakening muggles, and some of the points he's been asked to make on Wednesday to the squib class. Minister Bones had hoped to join us, but another emergency requires her attention this afternoon. Arthur?"

The red head bobbed in acknowledgement. "As I'm sure you all imagine, it's been a madhouse at the Ministry. We were lucky that we found squibs who know muggle technology and were able to help us work with it. I've been told that it's been much easier to make repairs since the wizards could use magic right out in the open, too – got lots more done that way, in much less time."

Arthur outlined the overall story that the Ministry felt needed to be shared with the squibs. Of course, the expectation was that this story would immediately be shared with the entire magical community as well, and this was the opportunity for the Ministry to outline the much broader communication that would be made to muggles when they awoke. There were some parts that were really part of Harry's story, and he confirmed that he'd cover those things, and a few aspects of the story that were pure Ministry policy, and Arthur assured all that he and Minister Bones would agree on the precise wording that would be used.

The sun was starting to dip below the horizon as the group finally concluded a surprisingly active discussion. All were satisfied that it covered all the things that needed to be explained, and prepared everyone, magical, squib and eventually even muggle, for a very changed reality.

Harry finally thought to ask about the messages being prepared for the waking muggles. "I spoke to the princes at last week's squib class, and they said that the Ministry wanted to tape messages from them that would run on the television during the time that the muggles were waking up, explaining what had happened. They told me that they suggested that I speak, too. Do you know anything about that?"

Arthur nodded, a bit sheepishly. "Yes, Harry, I have heard about that, but was thinking we'd get to that next week; you have enough going on right now. Since you asked, I can tell you that the Ministry Department of Explanations had come up with a plan, and, well, to put it delicately, the squibs were in an absolute uproar over what they proposed. Especially the princes, and once they spoke up, the Minister had to get involved. The planning of our remarks to the squib class here at Hogwarts became the place we got it all sorted out. We'll be telling the story to the squibs that will basically be the story we tell the muggles. We have to be consistent, and we can't expect the squibs to keep two stories straight. So it's one story. And there was more than a little discussion as to how we get the story told. This television stuff was fascinating! Most ingenious, those muggles! Cameras, and digitalis storage, and airwaving – just remarkable, really. Anyway, the princes offered to speak for us, and broached the subject of selecting some witches and wizards to speak as well. You can imagine the conversation about who would speak on behalf of the magical world! The boys were rather insistent that it be you, you know. Let's just say that some magical folks did not like hearing that anyone would think they looked odd, or scary. We'll not begin working on that until school is over for you. We've taken up enough of your time, what with school exams this week."

Severus watched over Harry very carefully the first part of the next week, making sure that he took a small dose of Dreamless Sleep every night before he went to bed, and holding him close as he fell to sleep. He fussed if he thought Harry was not eating enough, and insisted on a brief review of the subject of the next day's test before they retired each night.

On Wednesday morning, as they were getting ready to head off to breakfast, after which Harry's last year-end exam would take place, Harry decided they could be a few minutes late, if necessary. He blocked the door into the hallway for just a moment, and placed his palm against Severus' chest to stop him from proceeding through the door.

"Thank you, Severus. You have really taken care of me this week; I've never gone into exams as well rested and prepared. I wanted to tell you how much I appreciated it."

Severus quirked his eyebrow in that very attractive way that he had. Harry half-braced for a snarky reply, almost regretting that he'd probably set himself up for that. To Harry's great surprise, the quirk morphed into a very genuine smile. "It was my pleasure to care for you, Harry. The world will start intruding again in a day or two, but I am glad that I could hold it off for a while, so you could study, and eat and rest, and be a student for a bit longer." He gently lifted Harry's chin and bent to meet his lips with a soft kiss. "Now, good luck with the Charms exam today. There will be too much going on around here today, but how about I cook us dinner again tomorrow night?"

A huge smile lit Harry's face, and he launched himself into Severus' midsection for a hug. "Wicked! I can't wait!"


	30. Ch 107 Explanations

Chapter 107 – Explanations

Year end exams were over! With his Charms exam completed, Harry joined Neville and Ron for a walk outside before lunch, to soak up some sun and just relax. The boys were on their own, because Hermione was the only one in the group who had taken Ancient Runes, which meant that she had one final exam to take that afternoon. Typically, she went off to the library for some last-minute revising before lunch.

"Come on, guys! This is a perfect day for flying!" Ron exhorted his friends as he led the trio out of the castle and down the stone steps. Neville did not look too enthused; while his flying had improved a bit after his memorable first flying lesson, he was still not really comfortable on a broom, and would certainly think twice before flying too high or too fast, both basic characteristics of Ron's flying. Harry looked appalled, as he hadn't been down to the Quidditch pitch since that horrible day when the Elder Demon arrived to destroy it.

Ron finally realized that neither of his companions shared his enthusiasm, so he explained. "No, not at the pitch! The pitch is cleaned up – it's going to be fine for games next year, I'm sure, but no one flies there now, 'cause it's not been all repaired yet. But we can fly over the lawn down by the lake, or even go over the lake. I heard that the Giant Squid has been watching out for fliers and caught a first year who fell off his broom last week, carried him to shore. It's a brilliant way to spend an hour, come on!"

Harry had perked up a bit at the idea of a fly around the lawn and over the lake; he'd always found that a bit of flying really calmed him down. Neville remained unconvinced, now adding flight over water to his concerns about flying in general. Neville's concerns evaporated when he was approached by one of the warriors.

"Neville, lad, might you have an hour or so? I've got a bit of an issue up at my farm – there's an infestation of some sort, killing the barley plants. Could you come along with us and take a look?"

Neville did not have to be asked twice – he immediately waved goodbye to Ron and Harry and walked off toward the encampment of warriors, several of whom were waiting with butterbeer caps in hand to travel to the farms via portkeys.

Ron and Harry waved back, and broke into a slow jog over to the broom shed to gather up some school brooms for their impromptu fly.

Harry kicked off right outside the broom bshed, and spiraled up to tree-top level before darting toward the shore of the lake. He zigged and zagged, followed closely by Ron. They spotted the Giant Squid a few dozen meters offshore, just about the same time that it spotted them, and the large fish kept a wary eye on them as they flew over the water. The boys flew several laps around the lake shore, sometimes ranging far over the water, and other times over the land. By the time Harry landed back on the land, he was windblown, rosy-cheeked, slightly winded and absolutely glad that he'd taken Ron up on the invitation to go flying. He'd nearly forgotten how totally exhilarating a flight for the pure joy of flying could be.

"Ron, that was fantastic!" Harry gasped as he got his breath back. "I haven't done that in a long time, and it felt so good."

Ron was trying to rake his fingers through his red hair to smooth it down, and having only minimal success. He grinned back at Harry. "Yeah, mate. It's been too long since we did that. I missed it, too."

It was still about a quarter hour before lunch, so the two took their time strolling along the path back to the castle, catching up.

"So, you ready for tonight? My dad's thrilled to be speaking at the class, even more to be sharing the night with you," Ron ventured.

"Yeah, it will be good. I met with him last Sunday to go over what we each will be saying, so I think we're good to go, and we have everything covered. He'll be great," Harry added, suspecting that Ron was a bit nervous. "He's so enthusiastic, and genuine, you know? People will just know, when he talks, that he's serious and excited about what he's saying. That comes through, and he'll be a great ambassador for the Ministry. They couldn't have picked a better person to speak for them."

Ron looked proud to hear Harry say that about his dad, and Harry, noticing Ron's reaction, was secretly pleased that he thought to share his admiration of Arthur with Ron.

Ron suddenly looked a bit ill at ease – something was clearly bothering him and he was very reluctant to bring it up. "So, um, er . . . how are things going with you and Snape?"

Harry was a bit puzzled by the question, but willing to answer. "Pretty good, actually. We've been getting along well. He's almost never snarky, and he really looks after me, you know? This past week, during exams, he actually fussed over me. It was weird, but in a good way."

Ron seemed somewhat but not entirely relieved. "I was wondering if, um, you know, um . . . oh, never mind."

"No, Ron, don't be like that. You're my best mate, if you have a question, you can ask it. If I can't answer, I'll tell you."

Ron was now in full blush, his freckles standing out against a very red face, which clashed badly with his red hair. He looked quite miserable. "Look, I'm sorry I started this."

Harry was torn between amusement and annoyance. "You aren't getting off that easily. What did you want to ask me?"

With a roll of his eyes and an air of resignation, Ron nodded glumly. "Well, Hermione's been hinting about our relationship, and I saw her whispering with you the other day. I wondered if she mentioned me. And I was just wondering if you and Snape had moved along from where you were."

Oblique and not clearly stated, but Harry knew Ron well enough to understand what he meant.

"Hermione hadn't mentioned anything about what was going on between you and her. I will say, I could tell something changed between you when you both stopped acting weird, but she never told me what happened. She was all worried about whether I'd had an argument with Aunt Petunia when I ran into her in the greenhouses the other day, and she was just pressing for details." Ron was relieved to hear that; he'd seen the two friends whispering back and forth very intently at the table and wasn't sure what they'd been talking about.

"As for Severus and me, well, he's always made it clear that he was not going to mature our bond until I was certain about the direction I wanted to take with him, and while he never came out and said it, I suspect he's thinking that I won't know that until I turn 17. I'm actually sure that I want to stay with Severus – he's my family now, and that's just what I want. So, what's going on then with you and Hermione?"

Ron swallowed before answering. "Actually, I think we're in a place not too far from where you and Snape are. We've talked about taking our relationship to the next level, which of course is girl-talk for having sex, but I want it to be special, not just rolling around on the dirt behind the greenhouses. Not with Moine. Where on earth in this crowded castle we're going to find the privacy and time for this, anytime soon, I don't know. But we've talked about it, and, well, there you are."

Harry's face broke into a wide grin. "I have a suggestion for you, Ron – the Room of Requirement! You need a quiet, peaceful bedroom setting, I'd imagine, and I'm sure it can help you out."

Ron's face broke into an even wider grin. "OK, I can see that I wouldn't think of something like that, but I can't believe that you came up with it and Hermione hasn't thought of it yet." The grin faded a bit as he got back to Harry's situation. "You're sure you want to stay bonded to Snape, then?"

That was a serious question, and Harry gave it a serious answer. "I've made up my mind. The Marriage Stone did know what it was talking about when it chose him for me. He's not the easiest person to deal with" Harry chucked as he jabbed Ron in the ribs in response to the eye-roll that comment elicited, "but he's making me very happy." Still giggling at Ron, he added "I'll spare you the intimate details. But I am certain that Severus and I have a future together."

Ron shook his head in wonder at that. "Thanks for not overdoing the details. Who'd've thought? I'm happy for you, then."

"Yeah, well, it's only fair. You and Mione have a future together, it seems. Get started on that soon," Harry offered with a wink, causing Ron to blush, very predictably, again.

Laughing, the two headed into the castle for lunch.

X X X X X X X X X X

Amaranth was almost too nervous to eat at dinner that evening. The girl was frequently high-strung, but Petunia had never seen her this wound-up. Their little group at their table had expanded to include several other women. Petunia had learned from experience that a bigger group at dinner before these events kept the conversation going and it helped distract Amaranth and ease her jitters, so she'd made sure to have a small group join them.

Petunia had become acquainted with these women over the past weekend on the excursion to Hogsmeade. A group of half a dozen women, including witches and squibs, had made the trek to the quaint little town on Saturday, walking there in late morning to enjoy lunch in one of the nicer tearooms and then doing some browsing and shopping. Petunia had been rather startled to realize that the day – the lunch, the shopping, the conversations, all of it – had been exactly like days she often enjoyed in the muggle world with her muggle friends. Of course, she kept that to herself, but it still made her think.

She also had her first brush with wizard money. Petunia had inspected the strange coins Harry had sent to her with a certain suspicion. She also consulted Amaranth, who gave her an overview of the relative value of the different kinds of coins used in the magical world. However, Petunia still had no idea of the buying power of Galleons, or how they equated to muggle money. She was a bit nervous that she might not have enough, and was very surprised to discover that just one of the big golden coins covered her share of the very lovely luncheon and got her a handful of other coins as change.

Petunia was also very taken with the quaintness of Hogsmeade. To her, it looked like a reconstructed medieval village, but instead of being a tourist destination, it was seemingly a thriving village in which quite a few people resided and happily went about their business despite the apparent lack of modern amenities. The greatest shock, however, was the view of Hogwarts Castle as the group walked back. She'd not seen the castle from any distance before, and was quite amazed by the imposing grandeur of the building. Just like Hogsmeade, it appeared to be something lifted straight out of centuries-ago history, or maybe even a fairy tale. It was almost hard to fathom that she'd been living there for a couple of months now.

Petunia had no problem getting a few of these women to join her and Amaranth at Wednesday's dinner. The squib program that evening was all everyone, magical as well as squib, had been talking about for several weeks now and her role as the organizer had made Amaranth something of a celebrity herself. An older woman, a witch named Marie something-or-other, had maneuvered herself into a seat next to Amaranth and was peppering her with questions.

"My husband Harold tells me that the talk at the Ministry is that the Minister herself will be coming to the program tonight. Did you ever imagine that the program that you proposed would attract such attention?"

Amaranth shook her head a bit as she smiled. "No, ma'am. I really thought in terms of helping those who were brand new to this world to learn something about it, to better understand what it was like, how things worked here, that sort of thing. I was amazed at the number of volunteers we got, immediately, to present on all manner of topics. Most of the professors here, including the Headmaster, were quite enthused, but we've had several members of the Wizengamot speak, as well as businessmen and even the Head Goblin at Gringotts. It's been quite astonishing, really, quite beyond my expectations."

Amaranth had heard from Professor Sprout earlier that afternoon that the Ministry had contacted the Headmaster because Minister Bones wished to attend. It had momentarily made her extremely nervous, but Professor Sprout was quick to reassure her that Minister Bones was a very lovely lady. It turned out that they'd been classmates at Hogwarts and while sorted into different Houses, they'd been friends. Thanks to Professor Sprout's quick reassurances, the Minister for Magic was just about the only dignitary associated with the program whose attendance did not cause Amaranth to get upset.

"And how on earth did you get Harry Potter to agree to present to the squibs of all people? That is beyond amazing. I'd have to imagine that he's busy with all sorts of important things – I almost could not believe it when I heard he was going to speak tonight."

The gushing reference to her nephew caught Petunia's ear, but she held her tongue to see how Amaranth answered. She was catching on to the fact that her low opinion of the boy was a decidedly minority viewpoint in the wizarding world, and of course, that horrid boyfriend of Harry's made any criticism of the boy cause for endless embarrassment.

"He's the most remarkable, down-to-earth young man. He's attended every one of our programs, no doubt a big contribution to their success. He wanted to speak, and either he or his bondmate approached Professor Sprout with his request. I don't know him, personally, but she's had him in classes since he arrived here, and thinks he's a wonderful person."

"Of course, hadn't we all been waiting for the boy to come back to the magical world, from wherever the Headmaster hid him, but then to find out he's not just The Boy Who Lived, but the King of the wizarding world – well, that's almost too much!" Marie gushed on.

Amaranth stole a quick look over at Petunia, and was surprised to see that she had a pensive look on her face as she stabbed at her food with her scramasax. Usually, she looked murderous when hearing her nephew praised like that. Amaranth was relieved that Petunia had not responded in her usual manner, even if she wasn't sure if this represented any change in heart.

X X X X X X X X X X

The squib program got underway precisely as scheduled, before the largest audience yet to assemble for one of the sessions. The house elves had expanded the Great Hall to nearly double its size, and even with the trestle tables removed, it was very crowded. There was the usual group of squibs staying at Hogwarts, as well as most of the other castle inhabitants, including the staff. But tonight, quite a few members of the Wizengamot, as well as the Minister of Magic, were in attendance, as were many Ministry officials and employees. Hermione had insisted that her parents come to the castle tonight, as had many other students, both muggle, squib and magical born. Pretty much anyone who could come up with any reason to be at Hogwarts today had shown up, and then stayed for the session, and many others arrived in the evening. There were also reporters and photographers present to cover the session.

Finally, Amaranth stepped up to the podium and the audience slowly quieted down.

"Good evening, one and all. I am delighted at the turn-out that we have for our final program this year, by far our largest audience ever! And who can blame you? We are thrilled to be hearing this evening from Mr. Arthur Weasley, head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department at the Ministry of Magic and speaking to us tonight on behalf of the Ministry's Department of Explanations, and from Mr. Harry Potter himself! I would also like to acknowledge Madam Bones, the Minister of Magic, who has joined us this evening, together with many members of the Wizengamot and officials and employees at the Ministry." Madam Bones, seated in the front row with a few other magical dignitaries as well as the squib princes, stood and waved back at the audience, which offered polite applause in response.

"May I now present Mr. Arthur Weasley." Amaranth offered, as she turned the podium over to the tall, redheaded man.

Arthur's initial discomfort at speaking to a large audience evaporated by the time he'd bid the audience a good evening. He began telling them some wizard history, explaining in very general terms the rise of a very evil wizard twenty five or so years ago. He then surprised the audience by noting "When Harry and I reviewed what we were each going to be sharing with you tonight, we agreed that it would make the most sense for us to share one presentation rather than speak separately. Harry will explain what happened next, just over 15 years ago."

Any whispering or squirming about came to an immediate halt as Harry stepped up beside Arthur. The room grew completely silent.

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley. I'm sure that those of you who don't know this story already are wondering why I cover the part of this story that begins when I was just a bit over a year old. Obviously, my recollection of this is mainly what I've learned from others."

"Before I get to that, I want to make an observation. It's important for everyone here to remember that whether we are magical, or muggle or squib, we're all human. And just as there are good and bad people in the muggle world, there are good and bad people in the wizarding world. When a wizard goes bad, he can create more havoc in the world, but that's just because magic gives him the opportunity to be bad on a larger scale. This is all about human nature, not whether one has magic or not."

"Anyway, this evil wizard from 25 years ago was named Tom Riddle. He was the son of a muggle and a witch. His muggle father abandoned his mother, and she died when he was born. He was raised in a muggle orphanage and brought to school here at Hogwarts. After he left school, he reinvented himself as he pursued a path of evil, or dark, magic. He began to call himself Lord Voldemort. As you hear from the way quite a few in the audience reacted when I said his name," Harry continued over the gasps and whispers that swelled up in the audience, "there is great superstition in the magical world about even uttering his name. Most call him "You Know Who" or "He Who Must Not Be Named." For someone who had a muggle father, it might surprise you to know that he attacked muggles and those who have magic but are not born into magical families. He appealed to others who valued pure blood, that is, witches and wizards from families that did not have muggles in their family lines. He was gathering followers and killing off those who opposed him, until about 15 years ago. This is where I come into the story. My parents worked hard to oppose Voldemort, and he came to our home to kill them."

At this point, Arthur, who had been standing several steps behind the podium as Harry spoke, stepped forward, and put a fatherly arm around Harry's shoulders as he continued. Harry stole a very quick glance up at Arthur, thanking him for his support with a small smile and a nod. From a spot against the wall near the front of the room, Severus felt a momentary flare of jealously seeing anyone else put his arm around Harry, although under the circumstances, he had to silently thank Arthur himself for showing Harry needed support at that moment.

"Voldemort succeeded in killing my parents, but when he directed the Killing Curse at me, it bounced off me, and nearly killed him. I am told that I am the first person known to have survived the Killing Curse, and I am told that I survived because of my mother's valiant effort to protect me – the love she showed in shielding me from Voldemort is what actually saved me. That's why you sometimes hear me called "The Boy Who Lived." Unfortunately, Voldemort did not die, either, when his Killing Curse bounced off me, but it did weaken him terribly, and he disappeared, for a long time."

At this point, Arthur continued the story, still standing with his arm around Harry's shoulders. He told of the efforts to round up Voldemort's supporters, but the very limited success the Ministry had in doing so. He also told of Voldemort's efforts to return to full strength (although in very general terms, Harry having persuaded him that too graphic a description of his efforts to recover a body would appall the squibs and later the muggles), and how those eventually succeeded two years ago. "Your newspapers have actually covered some of the most recent activities of You Know Who and his followers. When wizards and witches direct magic at the muggle world, you usually don't see it as magic, but explain it in terms muggles understand. You had a very cold, misty summer with some terrible storms a couple of years ago, but that was actually the result of magic unleashed by You Know Who. There were reports in your newspapers about bridges that collapsed, and some terribly violent explosions. Those events were all the result of magic, although muggles believed that this was all caused by structural deficiencies that failed in the face of terrible storms. The violent explosions around the world a few months ago, those were actually the work of an Elder Demon that You Know Who summoned."

Harry took up the narrative here. "The last place the Elder Demon appeared that Saturday was right here, at Hogwarts, right in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch, that really tall stadium you can see from the front of the castle. The Demon succeeded in killing a number of magical people here, before we were able to cast a spell to banish it." There had been quite a discussion on Sunday afternoon about what else to say here, especially as it pertained to identifying Harry as the King of the wizarding world, and his use of the King's Banishment. Harry was adamant – that was not a necessary part of this story, and his preference ultimately swayed the others. He left it very general, very deliberately.

"Just three days after that, Voldemort unleashed a spell on the world. He put every human being in the world to sleep. That doesn't sound very dramatic, does it? But he started with an ancient spell that could put a person to sleep for years, not overnight, and he stripped out a part of the spell that would keep them safe from dehydration or starvation and most other ills for that time. Once he was done modifying the spell, sending it throughout the world, it was weaker, but still was going to put all human beings to sleep for a few months, and without the stasis component to keep them well, humans could not survive that long without water or food. He meant to kill everyone in the world."

There were a number of gasps in the room at that statement, and a few people began sobbing, while others more stoically dabbed at the tears pooling in their eyes. In theory, they all knew this. References to all this had been in the articles in the Daily Prophet, and they'd heard it spoken of, at least piecemeal. Somehow, put so plainly by Harry, the true horror stood out.

"I was able to send a spell out myself, right after I realized what Voldemort had done, but my spell only worked on people who had magic. I was able to waken everyone in the world who had some magic in them. That's how so many of you discovered that you were squibs."

Arthur continued, explaining the concern about what, if anything, the wizarding world could do to save the muggles, and the initial efforts to bring at least those muggles with family in the magical world to places like Hogwarts where they could be cared for. Harry then picked up with the story of developing and casting a spell to keep sleeping muggles safe.

Arthur took a deep breath as he took the floor again. "The Ministry has worked tirelessly to get the muggle world back to rights, but you need to understand that some things could not be fixed. When people fell asleep, there were airplanes in the air, and cars and busses being driven, so there were many bad accidents. We could not undo what happened there. We've rebuilt buildings, and especially thanks to squibs who knew how these things worked, kept the muggle power grid up."

Harry caught Severus' eye as Arthur mentioned the power grid and they shared a smile. It had taken quite a bit of coaching to get Arthur to just say that, and not go off, as he was prone to do, about how marvelous muggle technology was.

Arthur kept going. "Their pets and farm animals were fed, plants tended, crops planted or harvested, so when the muggles awaken, in two weeks or so, many things in their world will be as they were. But there are changes that they will see right away. It was spring when they were last awake, and now it's mid-summer. They will notice that there were muggles who died in the immediate aftermath of falling asleep. And, they will be aware of the existence of the magical world."

A major hubbub erupted at that last statement. There were some near-shouts of protests from Ministry workers and others who devoted their days to the efforts made to shield the magical world from muggle eyes. Beneath the louder noises were a flood of whispers between people seated together, some commenting on the announcement and others asking what the fuss was about.

Harry and Arthur allowed the noise to go on for a minute, but then Harry resumed speaking, using the Sonorus charm to enable him to speak over the others still discussing Arthur's announcement. He also spoke with authority – it was critical to all that they needed to accomplish that everyone understand that this was not open to discussion, but was absolutely the course of action that the magical world was going to follow.

"The Ministry of Magic created a special department to focus on this issue, the Department of Explanations. We will absolutely have to disclose the existence of our world, at least for now, and at least to some extent. And not just in Britain, but across the world. I think some of you know that our Minister does meet periodically with the muggle Prime Minister and a few senior members of his government, so some key leaders know about us. That's how it's handled in every country. I support what the Ministry proposes to do here in Britain, and will be helping them deliver the message, along with the princes. Minister Bones, might you be willing to speak to us all for a few minutes about your new Department and give us some idea of what you have planned?"

The Minister made her way from the front row up to the podium, accompanied by the flashlights of the cameras of the Daily Prophet and other wizarding newspapers. She stood for a few moments with Harry and Arthur, as more photos were taken, before the two men stepped back a few paces and left her standing alone.

"Thank you Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley. Well done. To you, my fellow members of the magical community in Britain, whether you grew up in this community or learned about it for the first time just a couple of months ago, I confirm that some of the fundamentals of our way of life are about to change. As Mr. Potter said, at least for now, and at least to some extent. I have spent a great deal of time in discussions over the last month with members of our own Wizengamot and with member of similar bodies in other countries across the world, and also in discussion with members of the International Confederation of Sorcerers. We have looked at this situation from every possible angle, considering all constituencies. We were even able speak with two members of the sitting royal family in Britain, princes who learned that in addition to being members of the royal family here, they are also squibs and thus members of the magical world, too. We cannot hide our world totally at this time, as we did for so many centuries. We need to share at least some information about who we are and what we can do, to explain what happened and how we've tried to rebuild the world for our muggle cousins. There is no choice in that."

Minister Bones took a deep breath. What she was not sharing, of course, was concern that at least some part of the upcoming battle with You Know Who was almost certainly to be fought out in the open, in full view of muggles. The Elder Demon was not recognized for what it was, so while it wrought great damage, no one connected it to the magical world. All of her advisors agreed (a first, in itself) that You Know Who would find a way to make his battles visible to the muggles, possibly even deliberately putting them in harm's way. "A team in the Department of Explanations is developing guidelines that will be shared with the press and distributed widely in the next week. We will outline for you all what we will be telling the muggles, and providing guidance for you about what magic can be used in front of muggles, should you have contact with them. I realize that many of you live in the unplottable counties and have no direct contact with the muggle world, so for you, nothing will change. For those who do have contact, either because you live in the muggle world or interact with it for other reasons, you'll need to be prepared to adhere to the new guidelines. The squibs who will be going back to the muggle world will need to know how to explain what they saw and learned here, to the extent that they wish to share information about this."

"The princes have agreed to help us calm the muggles when they wake and begin the process of informing them about what happened. They will use the muggle technology known as the television, which I believe most here have heard about. They will record a message that will be viewable on the televisions, which we expect most muggles will turn on as soon as they wake up. Muggles know who the princes are, and we hope will be receptive to the things they say. Mr. Potter will join them."

"We will have to be careful, as it is not possible to predict the full reaction of the muggle world to what we will be telling them. We do not want to leave them to their own devices and have another occurrence of the mess the colonists made in Massachusetts a couple of centuries ago – we intend to manage this to avoid that sort of nonsense this time. It is important for you all to be aware that the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy is suspended in certain ways, to enable the muggles to get their world back in order and get on with their lives. We'll be considering how to restore secrecy in the future, as I assume that will be desirable."

With that, she turned and shook both Harry's and Arthur's hands, and took her seat, as the noise level in the Great Hall rose again. Harry was watching the audience, to gauge their reaction. He saw some concern, but not as much as might have been expected. Arthur stepped forward to bring the program to an end.

"Thank you all for your attention today. Harry and I were very glad for the opportunity to speak to those of you who are new to magic. We are pleased that so many of you quite familiar with our world already joined us, as well, as we embark on an unprecedented period of openness with muggles. We bid all a good evening."

Any hope that Severus had of getting Harry out of there as soon as the presentation was over was squelched by an absolute flood of people pressing forward for a word with one of the dignitaries or presenters.

X X X X X X X X X X

In a seat toward the front but off to the side, Petunia listened to Harry and Arthur tell Harry's story.

Of course, the principal had shared the gist of this in the letter he tucked into Harry's blanket when he left the boy on her doorstep all those years ago. Vernon was quite adamant that they must have brought this all on themselves, with their "unnaturalness," and she had to agree with his argument. That quickly became her opinion, as well. But hearing Harry describe Lily's final act, shielding her baby son from a lunatic intent on killing them all, the kind of lunatic who would actually try to kill a year-old baby, brought a long-suppressed memory to the front of her mind.

She remembered an incident on a school playground, when she was probably seven and her sister six. One of the larger boys was bullying a much younger and smaller boy – she couldn't remember any details of that, except that the smaller boy was near to tears in the face of the physical intimidation. Lily saw what was going on and, without any hesitation, she went over and stood between the bully and the younger boy, loudly calling the brute on his behavior. Petunia remembered being horrified by her little sister's action, because of course, he was massively larger than Lily herself. Lily was incredibly brave when she saw something like that going on, but she'd also spotted one of the school matrons standing nearby and was able to speak loudly enough to get the woman's attention. The bully was actually trying to shove Lily away when the matron finally realized what was happening, and as Petunia recalled now, the boy got into a great deal of trouble for apparently attacking Lily.

"Why did you do that?" Petunia had demanded, when Lily was rescued from the bully by the matron. "He could have hurt you!"

"He's always picking on the little boys. I know he's bigger than me, but I can run faster and jump higher than him, so I can get away if he really chases me. Did you see that he was trying to move me, but he couldn't? I can stand where I want, and he can't shove me. He should be punished for what he did to the little boy. I just made sure that happened," Lily explained.

Petunia recalled telling her sister that she was a twit, or something like that, and Lily just shrugged and giggled. She wasn't going to let someone get away with mistreating the little boy, and she was fearless in standing up for the smaller child.

As Petunia sat in the crowded Great Hall and heard Harry tell his story, for some reason, tears pooled in her eyes, and several began to course down her cheeks.

X X X X X X X X X X

Michael and Anna Granger were seated in the same row as Petunia, but toward the center of the room. They'd arrived by floo late in the afternoon, and had enjoyed their dinner with Hermione. While most of Hermione's chatter was about how she thought she'd done on the year-end tests (some things didn't change), Anna was pretty sure that things were now going well with Ron. Hermione didn't come out and say anything directly; it was just intuition, but Anna was quite certain and very pleased.

"And Mr. Weasley is going to be speaking tonight on behalf of the Ministry of Magic! I was so pleased that he volunteered to speak, but then to have the Minister herself ask him to represent the Ministry, well, that was a surprise. He's thrilled, and nervous, of course, but his whole family has come to see him and Harry. Did you see them?" Hermione gushed.

"Actually, we just arrived when you came to find us, dear," Anna replied. "I don't believe I saw any of them in the Great Hall as we got here."

"It's going to be very interesting tonight. Harry told me that he and Mr. Weasley are going to share one presentation, and that the Minister herself is coming, and she'll be making a very important announcement. The princes are going to be here, but they won't be speaking."

Anna and Michael shared a look. Hermione's role in this world never ceased to surprise them. They were an ordinary family, with no particular "connections" in the world, so she did not grow up in regular contact with the politicians and leaders and royalty, but she was so comfortable in this situation. It was her new "normal."

When they entered the Great Hall this evening, they immediately ran into Molly and the others they had met at Christmas. As they stood exchanging pleasantries, they were joined by some of the professors they'd met before, and greeted warmly by Headmaster Dumbledore. The red-head contingent had seats being held in the front row, and the Grangers sought seats a few rows back. Hermione was going to sit with her parents, but Ron waved her to a seat next to him, and Anna was quick to encourage Hermione to move. "We'll be just fine here, dear. Go, sit with your young man!" Anna offered. Her seat was immediately occupied by Mrs. Longbottom, who had arrived on the arm of her charming, if very awkward-looking grandson, who seemed inordinately relieved to find her a single seat with people she knew, as he went off to find his classmates.

When Harry arrived, Anna took advantage of his presence at the front of the room to study the young man very closely. He looked much as he did when she'd seen him at Christmas and at a distance since she and her husband came to Hogwarts. He still had the same unruly dark mop of hair, and the piercing green eyes, but there was also something very different. She mulled that over as she watched him join Arthur at the podium and begin speaking, but she had a difficult time deciding what it was. He still had a charming smile, and a diffident manner, but he had a force, a power now that was not there before. It was fascinating to consider what contributed to this totally new presence, when the physical appearance hadn't changed.

Anna noticed Harry look off to the side at one point, and followed his line of sight. Harry had sought out Severus and they'd exchanged a quick look and a small smile. Anna blushed slightly as she recalled some of her original concerns when she'd heard that Hermione's friend had been married off to this man; it seemed so inappropriate and horrible, and yet had been accepted by the magical people. Now that she'd spotted Severus, he, too, came under her scrutiny. He certainly looked as fierce and forbidding as ever, but watching him watch after Harry from his spot at the side of the room was enlightening. He was totally focused on Harry, immediately there with a nod or (very) small smile if Harry looked to him. Harry was doing that rather frequently, seeming to get strength from Severus' encouragement.

Anna actually smiled when she saw the look on Severus' face when Arthur put a fatherly arm around Harry's shoulder, the jealously was so clear on his face. When Anna realized the topic being discussed, she immediately stopped smiling, but remained very focused on the interplay between the two men.

Hermione had suggested, in that oblique way children have of communicating intimate matters to their parents, that Harry was actually happy with Severus and seemed to be rather in love with the man. The relationship itself still bothered Anna in the back of her mind, but having gotten that clue from Hermione, she found herself looking for evidence to support her daughter's suspicion. She was amazed at how obvious the attraction between them was, once you looked for it.

Harry's eyes lit up when he was looking at Severus, but perhaps even more surprising, Severus' expression was actually softer when he was looking at Harry. There was a connection that seemed to stretch between the two – she wasn't sure if it was passion? Fascination? Love? But there was definitely something there.

When the session came to an end, Anna watched Severus try to get to Harry's side as quickly as he could, hampered by the throng of people trying to get to Harry, the Minister, the princes, all the dignitaries. Severus' eyes never lost sight of Harry, and with patience, he continued to press into the crowd and inch his way over to Harry. When the two finally connected, Harry visibly relaxed into the protective (possessive?) arm that Severus put around his shoulder.

That arm remained in place until Severus was able to steer Harry out through the door behind the podium. Just before the door closed, the arm fell from Harry's shoulder and Anna was sure that she saw Harry take Severus' hand as they disappeared into the corridor beyond.


	31. Ch 108 The Calm Before the Storm

Chapter 108 – The Calm Before the Storm

Harry and Severus, hand-in-hand, made it only a few steps along the back corridor heading toward the dungeon before one of the house elves appeared before them, apparently sent by the Headmaster.

"Please, Mr. Harry Potter and Mr. Harry Potter's Bondmate, sirs, Professor Dumbledore asks that you join him and Minister Bones in the reception room off the entryway, right now."

Neither Harry nor Severus looked particularly happy at that request. The little creature looked very worried, and wrung his hands as he assessed the likelihood of their compliance. He could not fathom having to tell the Headmaster that he had not accomplished his task. When the two wizards took deep breaths, shared a look of resignation and finally turned to head in the opposite direction, he looked greatly relieved. Nonetheless, the house elf kept vigil behind them lest they change their minds and turn again.

An unused classroom not far from the entryway to the Great Hall had been converted into a very elegant salon, and it was easy to follow the noise of conversation to identify the space now serving as the reception room. The Headmaster had shepherded Minister Bones and the members of the Wizengamot who had attended the session, as well as the senior Weasleys and assorted other wizards of importance, away from the hubbub of the Great Hall and into this more private space to discuss reaction to the news delivered at the session.

Harry realized that he was still holding Severus' hand as they entered the reception room, once he noticed the glare on Sirius's face focused just over his shoulder. As he released Severus' hand to go hug his godfather in greeting, Harry looked back and caught a quick glance back at his bondmate's face, and nearly laughed at the look of smug satisfaction being directed to Sirius. Harry was enveloped in a hug from Sirius just as Remus intercepted Severus and took his arm to steer him over to a small buffet, with a small smile and shake of his head.

"It's good to see you, kiddo," Sirius said into Harry's hair as he held his godson in a hug. "I've missed you, what with all the nonsense going on at the Ministry these days."

"And I've missed you, Sirius. Year-end exams just finished, so I've not really heard much about what's going on at the Ministry. Severus and I met with the Headmaster and Mr. Weasley on Sunday to discuss what we were saying tonight, but that's about all I've heard. What's been happening?"

Sirius launched into a detailed and surprisingly accurate account of all the behind-the-scenes maneuvering that led to the information shared this evening. For someone who had, not that long ago, professed to have no interest at all in anything as sedate as the process of governing the wizarding world, he had gotten quite immersed in the goings on there. "I'd never imagined what nonsense goes on at the Ministry, or at the Wizengamot, for that matter. I thought the Marauders had cooked up some complicated schemes in our day, but when I see what the politicians are up to, I realize we were rank amateurs. This is much more fun than I'd ever expected," he added with a wide grin.

"Plus, you get to work with Remus, right?" Harry added with a sly smile.

Sirius accepted the comment with a nod, but his smile dissolved into a frown. "He works too hard. He and Malfoy have been meeting constantly with all of Malfoy's researchers and lawyers. I think I'd rather . . . well, find another line of work, at the least, if that's how I had to spend my days. Too much sitting still, listening to boring old farts drone on and on. No, that's not for me. I've been working with Ministry groups that were putting the muggle world to rights, and lately, working out what we need to do to have their world ready for the muggles when they come to. Lots of field trips and fresh air – much more to my liking. And when I'm at the Ministry, there's just all sorts of stuff going on with the Wizengamot, never a dull moment with that bunch. The things that went on just to agree on Amelia's announcement tonight – that was the most fun I've had in ages."

Harry smiled at Sirius, amused by his almost child-like enthusiasm. After what the man had been through with his imprisonment for years in Azkaban, it wasn't a surprise at all that he favored being outside as much as he did. And now he was engaged in work at the Ministry, as a member of the Wizengamot, no less! While Sirius' enthusiasm might be child-like, at his core, he was a wily survivor, and by all indications, he was finding great strength in his obviously loving relationship with Remus. Harry felt very comforted seeing Sirius so engaged and happy in his life right now. He even noticed that some of the lines on his face were easing, especially around his eyes.

Remus had managed to deposit Severus with the Headmaster, Madam Bones and several Ministry leaders and left them deep in conversation as he worked his way back through the groups standing about, over to Harry and Sirius, where he also greeted Harry with a hug. "It's good to see you Harry. Don't believe a word he says," Remus laughed.

"I'm glad to see you, too, Remus," Harry said as he returned the hug. "Sirius did mention that you've been working a lot with Mr. Malfoy. I hadn't heard anything at all about what he's been up to. He was going to have someone look at all the legislation that's been passed to limit the rights of werewolves and vampires; it sounded like a massive undertaking. Is there progress?"

Remus nodded, as he casually put his arm around Sirius' shoulders. "Lucius' team has been very busy and has made good progress, Harry. He must have at least twenty legal researchers poring through the law books and records going back four hundred years, and he showed me the proposal he wants to present to the Wizengamot The bulk of it involves the repeal of provisions in what must be five or six hundred different laws – I never imagined that a concept I'd always associated with two specific laws had spawned such a mass of legislation."

The others in the room had been watching Harry out of the corners of their eyes while appearing to be holding conversations with others. As a consequence, his time with his godfather and Remus was cut short. One by one, or in small groups, people began to drift over to Harry for a word.

For the second time this evening, Severus found himself stuck at a distance from Harry and forced to watch others paw and pat his bondmate. He could only look over sporadically so he tried to guess from Harry's expression what had been said to him. A look of boredom or irritation suggested that some fawning and insincere comment had been made. Not surprisingly, Ministry functionaries tended to be in the area when those looks appeared. A blush of pleasure – most likely, someone had offered a sincere compliment. Harry looked very pleased indeed after greeting Lord Aventine (who was now almost never seen without a cookie or biscuit in his mouth, as if he was making up for the time he lost as a vampire, unable to eat sweets), and then Severus' own sister and her husband. It pleased Severus to realize that he did have at least one relation who could interact with Harry on a positive note.

The Malfoys weren't here tonight, he realized as he surreptitiously scanned the room, which removed one potential source of stress for Severus. He did not care if this was Hogwarts; for that matter, this soiree could have been held in the Gryffindor Common Room under Minerva's steely-eyed supervision and he'd still have been nervous if there was any chance that Lucius might be able to speak privately with Harry. It did not matter if all they could do was speak; Severus held a deep-seated, if not entirely rational, concern about anything to do with Lucius getting close to Harry in any way.

Two red heads were with Harry now – the Weasleys. Arthur was pumping his hand, no doubt basking in his and Harry's mutual congratulations at a job well done.

Arthur was possibly the biggest surprise, aside from Harry, of course, in this whole adventure in marriage to Harry Potter. Of course, Severus had know the man for many years through the Order of the Phoenix, during times when Severus' own role with that organization was subject to much suspicion and hostility. Severus could point to no incident in which he'd been treated with anything but courtesy by Arthur Weasley. But for some reason, Severus had concluded that he was bumbling and ineffectual, at best, the quintessential "follower." He was so blatantly Albus' man that he seemed not to have his own opinion on anything. It seemed he was always chasing after one toddler or another, as his wife seemed to be perpetually pregnant. He was the only wizard Severus had ever met who was proud and excited to have a job in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department of the Ministry. That was the Department most wizards regarded as a place to get a foot in the door at the Ministry, from which they planned to move as soon as possible. Arthur was delighted with a career there.

A small smile teased at the corners of Severus' mouth as he watched Arthur, wife pregnant yet again, talking to Harry. Severus now realized that Arthur's family was not just a source of pride, but a true credit to him. Putting the youngest two aside for the moment, they were generally bright youngsters, polite (in a Gryffindorish way, of course) and respectful. The older ones had turned out very well; Severus would always have a special place in his heart for Charlie's masterful handling of the Malfoys. Of more recent vintage, he had to admit to a grudging respect for the twins' brewing skills, even though those skills were squandered (in his opinion) developing joke products. That such a family had been raised under quite limited circumstances was indeed the mark of a successful and very dedicated family man. It was clear that Harry was very fond of Arthur, and for once, Severus' jealousy did not assert itself. Harry obviously saw Arthur as a father figure, and how could Severus object to his bondmate finding such a relationship?

The conversation with Albus and Minister Bones was finally winding down, and Severus' own mind was spinning with the news they'd shared, when he thought he saw Harry stifle a yawn. That was all he needed to make his excuses.

"Madam Minister, Headmaster, I must excuse myself. I notice that Harry seems quite spent, and I realize that he's had a long day, what with a year-end exam this morning and preparing for tonight. I will see him back to our rooms, and I will see you tomorrow then." With a rather formal nod to the Minister, Severus swept off with his black robes billowing and a scowl to keep any who might have thought to detain him further from approaching. The crowd in the room was thinning, and he was able to get to Harry's side very quickly.

Harry seemed to have saved one final smile for his bondmate. As he returned the smile, Severus vowed to himself that he'd never lose the thrill he still felt when this special creature graced him with such a beautiful smile. He remembered the jealously he felt when Harry had given such a smile to his godfather; he never wanted to feel that way again. Severus placed a protective arm around Harry's shoulders in greeting, and was further rewarded when the young man seemed to melt into him.

Severus leaned down to speak into Harry's ear. "You are nearly asleep on your feet, Harry. I've bid good evening to the Minister and Headmaster, so I think it's time that we headed off to our rooms. You can say goodnight to your dog and his wolf on our way out." Harry offered a good-natured chuff at Severus' description of Sirius and Remus, and allowed Severus to propel them toward the door, waving along the way to the Weasleys and a few others he'd met or spoken to during the evening. Their last stop, as they neared the door, was to speak to the two former Marauders, who appeared to be getting ready to leave themselves.

Sirius seemed ready to say something (probably something he'd regret) to Harry about Severus' arm around his shoulder, when Remus put a protective arm around Sirius' shoulders and held him steady with a squeeze. It was Remus who spoke on behalf of the two of them.

"It was wonderful to see you, Harry, and well done with your presentation. We're both very proud of you. I saw you talking to the Headmaster and Minister, Severus – you'll be briefing Harry?"

Severus nodded noncommittally, still slightly wary about these two.

"Good, then. We're heading back to Grimmauld Place tonight. It will be a busy day tomorrow. We'll be seeing you at the Ministry," Remus finished, as he turned to propel Sirius across the hallway to the Great Hall. A few of the attendees were still enjoying pumpkin juice and cakes there, although most of the throng had begun to disperse through the floos, where the two joined the line waiting their turn.

Across the Hall, the Grangers were seated on chairs that had been pulled into small circles as groups had formed up to visit after the program. Arthur and Molly had been pulled off to meet elsewhere with the Headmaster and others, and the professors all seemed to need to be other places. They briefly exchanged pleasantries with the Weasley's grown children, renewing the acquaintances made at Christmas, but were soon left to themselves as they shooed Hermione off to be with her friends.

"We will be just fine, dear, " Michael had told Hermione. "Your mother now loves pumpkin juice, so we'll just enjoy a cup and be on our way. You have fun, now that exams are over. We'll be seeing you soon." Anna gave Hermione a peck on the cheek as well as they watched her walk off with Ron and a gaggle of other students. With a sigh, they looked at each other, and smiles broke out.

"This place is something, isn't it?" Anna asked, not for the first time, as she admired the bewitched ceiling. "I certainly heard what Minerva told us about the school when she visited us to deliver Hermione's letter, but to actually see it, and experience it – I still find this place astonishing!" Michael smiled at his wife. Anna looked like a tourist every time she visited the castle, constantly looking around, noticing all the little details, curious about everything.

"I'll grab us some pumpkin juice, and I think I just saw some of those cakes you enjoyed last time pop onto that table on the side. Why don't you get us some, and then we'll floo back to our flat in a little while?" Michael suggested.

Anna nodded happily and joined a small queue forming up near a large platter of cakes. She found that she was standing next to a woman she'd noticed during the program – Anna had observed the woman crying as Harry told the story of his parent's death years ago. She smiled in greeting and said "I noticed that you were quite affected by Harry Potter's story this evening. It's such a very sad story, isn't it? Was that the first time you'd heard it?"

The woman seemed surprised by Anna's question. "No, I'd heard the story before. Hearing Harry tell it, well, it triggered some memories of my sister as a child, and it was thinking back on that that brought tears to my eyes. I was hoping no one noticed."

"I tend to be looking all over when I'm in the castle, and just happened to notice you. I doubt anyone else did. I'm Anna, by the way. My daughter is a student here. We never realized that my husband and I were actually squibs until all this nonsense happened. So, you were already familiar with the wizarding world before – are you a witch, then?"

Petunia really wished that this nosy woman had left her alone, but there was really no way to extricate herself politely, without drawing attention to herself. Why on earth would anyone assume that she's a witch? Did she look abnormal in some way? She was well aware of what would happen if she responded to Anna as she'd responded when others had made this mistake before, and had no intention of allowing that to happen again.

"My name is Petunia. I had heard the story before, because my nephew is a student here, but I'm not a witch. In fact, I was stunned to be told that I have any magic at all, also something learned in the wake of this nonsense."

Anna accepted that Harry Potter's story was very well-known by anyone in the wizarding world, or even tangentially connected to it, so Petunia's explanation made good sense to her. No doubt many of the children here at Hogwarts with Harry shared his story with their families, if nothing else than to bask in some reflected glory for having known the boy.

"Are you here with your family, then?" Anna asked, looking around to see if a husband might be lurking nearby.

"My husband and son are here, in the Infirmary, sleeping. They were not woken up from the sleeping spell. It is just me who is awake," Petunia replied. She felt a twinge mentioning Vernon and Dudley – it had been several days since she'd visited them in the Infirmary and realized that the time of their awakening was getting closer. She missed them both, and felt lonely for their absence. She needed to visit them again, maybe tomorrow.

Anna inquired if Petunia would like to join her and her husband, Michael. "We both discovered pumpkin juice when we came here, and found that we really enjoy it. And the cakes they have here at Hogwarts – we've never tasted anything quite like this. We're heading back to our flat near St. Mungo's after we have a bite. Would you care to visit with us?"

To her relief, Petunia spotted some of the women heading back to the Hufflepuff dormitory, and used their departure as her excuse for leaving as well. Anna bid her new friend good night, as she brought the cakes back to the chairs they'd claimed, and resumed her conversation with her husband.

X X X X X X X X X X

As Severus propelled Harry in the direction of the hall leading to the dungeons, Harry was now a bit more awake. "What's this about tomorrow at the Ministry, Severus?" he wanted to know.

A trademark smirk lit Severus' face. "I'll tell you when we're in our rooms, Harry. You can't imagine I was over there making small talk to Albus and the Minister all that time, can you?"

Harry chuckled in response. "No, actually, that would be most out of character. There must have been something afoot for you to have spent so much time in deep conversation." Harry also saw the throng of house elves loitering all along the corridors, watching them as they walked. While he suspected that the house elves were not at all interested in the political machinations of the wizarding world, just in meeting the needs of the wizards themselves, it did seem imprudent to discuss anything very confidential (as this apparently was) in front of such a large, if generally invisible, audience. They walked along in silence, Severus' arm around Harry's shoulders and Harry's arm now around his waist, until they were inside their quarters.

Severus hung up their robes as Harry spelled a small fire in the grate to dispel the lingering chill of the dungeon. Harry poured Severus a small firewhiskey and set it on the low table in front of the couch and took a seat. With a look of interest tinged with concern, he watched Severus take a seat at the other end of the couch as he asked "So, is this bad news?"

Severus seemed taken aback – the last thing he'd wanted to do was cause Harry concern! "Merlin, no. Not bad, really. Of course, there is news of some stepped up Death Eater activity, attacks on wizard communities in a few of the unplottable counties, a few larger efforts in the muggle world, but that's been going on for a while now. No, this is more Ministry-focused."

As Severus gathered his thoughts, Harry briefly considered what little he'd heard about goings on at the Ministry, mostly from Sirius and Remus. "Does this have anything to do with why Mr. Malfoy did not come to the program tonight?" he finally offered.

"Probably. There will be a full meeting of the Wizengamot tomorrow, as Lucius is prepared to present his recommended legislative overhaul to remove all the legal impediments that have been placed on werewolves and vampires, as you had charged him with doing. He approached Minister Bones just this afternoon about doing this tomorrow, and asked that you be advised, as he would most appreciate your attendance to hear his report."

Harry thought that over. "That sounds fine. I'm really surprised he's finished so fast; it sounded like a really monumental undertaking. What has you concerned about this?"

"I do not like impromptu invitations extended to you, requiring you to leave the safety of Hogwarts," he explained, "especially when it is possible that someone else has known for a much longer period of time that the invitation would be extended. While Lucius told the Minister that he'd finished the report just this morning, and wanted to waste no time in delivering it, I still am not sure that he, or perhaps someone he worked with, is not a step ahead, some how."

"If it's any consolation," Harry answered, "Remus told me he'd been meeting with Mr. Malfoy and his legal researchers for a while now, and from what he said, Remus believes that this did only get finished today."

Severus considered that, but still looked concerned. "That's not all, of course. Since Lucius specifically asked that you attend the Wizengamot meeting tomorrow, the Ministry decided that tomorrow afternoon, after the Wizengamot session, would be the ideal time for a small reception in my honor, to present the Order of Merlin. The assumption is that I'll be at the Wizengamot meeting with you, and we can both remain for the presentation of the Order medallion at a small gathering."

Once again, Harry could not see the problem. "That makes sense, doesn't it? One trip to the Ministry, rather than two? Of course, if I'm going to the meeting of the Wizengamot, I want you to accompany me. Given that you never want me anywhere near Mr. Malfoy without you being there, I assume that you have every intention of joining me, anyway." Severus smirked at Harry with a nod. He'd not realized he was as transparent as he apparently was, for Harry to have realized his innate distrust of his old "friend," Lucius.

"And since we're both there, why not present you with your Order?"

Harry clearly recalled Severus' lack of enthusiasm and general suspicion about being awarded the Order of Merlin. Severus might have felt the event of its presentation should be more significant, but that would be totally out of character with Severus and his reaction to news of the honor. There had to be some other reason for Severus' obvious reservations about this visit to the Ministry. "Still concerned that someone is one step ahead?"

Severus slid closer to Harry on the couch and took Harry's face in his hands. Planting a soft kiss on Harry's lips as he leaned in, he replied "Where you and your safety are involved, Harry, I am always concerned."

Harry basked in both the sentiment and Severus' seductive voice, and his very gentle touch, which was slowly growing more persistent and pronounced as the kiss was continued and then began to deepen. He'd never, in at least that part of his life for which he had memory, felt as cherished as he did by his bondmate. He mattered to Severus, he could tell.

Of all people to think of at a time like this, Mr. Malfoy, and his deepest desire sprang to mind. Harry thought he might now understand why a grown man of the vast means and privileges enjoyed by Mr. Malfoy might desire more than anything: to matter. Of course, what Mr. Malfoy wanted was to matter on a big scale, but if Harry could feel this wonderful just because he mattered to Severus, he could see why someone would see mattering as such a desirable goal. It felt extraordinary, down to his toes.

Banishing all thoughts of Lucius Malfoy from his mind, Harry focused on the man who had now pressed him down to the couch on his back, and had half-covered his body with his own. The weight and pressure of Severus' body atop his was both comforting and arousing; Harry did not feel any fear from this restraint – he welcomed it. This body was all firmness and angles, not what he might have thought he'd find even remotely desirable a year ago, but he craved it now. He knew, with absolute certainty, that this was right for him, what he wanted and needed.

He wanted and needed more, actually. But, how was he to persuade Severus that he was ready?

Harry was so swept up in his inner dialog that he was unaware that, between kisses and licks and nips, Severus was watching him intently, and taking full advantage of Harry's very Gryffindorish tendency to allow his face to reflect his inner thoughts. Severus clearly saw Harry's pleasure at the kisses and touches he was offering; he might never have guessed that Lucius Malfoy intruded into Harry's thoughts for a moment there, but he was aware that Harry was reveling in this intimacy. There was a momentary flicker of irritation or possibly frustration that caught Severus' eye.

A smile teased at the corner of Severus' mouth as he resumed his attention to Harry's face, neck, and slowly, as he was able to undo Harry's tie and unbutton his shirt, his collarbone, shoulders and chest. "I've had to endure many months of frustration," he thought to himself, "and I made it clear to you that we were waiting to consummate our relationship until I was certain you were ready. If you think that your first stirring of interest in proceeding is all it will take to persuade me that it is time, you are going to find out differently."

As the kissing and nipping progressed to mutual groping, Severus observed Harry's growing arousal and frustration with amusement. He was heavily aroused himself, of course, but he had become much more accustomed to frustration where Harry was concerned, and had resigned himself to living with that for just a short while longer. Harry's 17th birthday was drawing close; that felt like a point at which he would accept that the young man could make the decision to mature the bond that would truly bind them together.

Eventually, Severus took pity on Harry. Harry's breath was now mostly in gasps, and his trousers were tenting over what was no doubt becoming an uncomfortable erection. Severus levered himself off his wriggling bondmate and, casting aside the shirt and tie he had managed to remove from Harry while they kissed, he gathered Harry into his arms and carried him into the bedroom.

Severus gently lowered Harry onto the bed, and watched as he settled his head on the pillow, watched himself by Harry's green eyes, which were now filled with lust. The need and frustration was just pouring off him, and Severus thought he'd never seen anyone look so desperate as Harry looked right now. Some relief was clearly in order, but not what he suspected Harry was hoping for. With patience and care, Severus undressed Harry, caressing the skin he exposed as he drew down his trousers and pants. He shrugged out of his own clothing, and climbed onto the bed next to Harry, where he resumed his pattern of kissing, licking and nipping across the newly-exposed skin. He was careful to make this all about the physical sensations and was sure to keep his magic in check.

Harry was beside himself. He wanted more, he needed release, and at times he couldn't even think. Severus had him completely at his mercy. Somewhere in the back of his mind, in a place where conscious thought wasn't required, Harry noticed that, and realized he still felt safe; he really trusted Severus.

Severus batted Harry's hand away when he reached out to return the caresses. No words were spoken, but Harry's hand was placed above his head on the pillow, and held still for a second. When Severus removed his own hand to return to his prior activities, Harry's hand stayed still for a few minutes, but his resolve finally melted and he reached down again to try to stroke Severus. This time, both of Harry's hands were crossed at the wrists and placed above his head and held there by Severus, who also moved up to continue to kiss Harry's face and lips as he held Harry's hands still.

Severus finally decided that it was time to give Harry the release he very obviously needed, and, freeing Harry's arms and abandoning his mouth, he quickly angled his body in the other direction. Swallowing Harry in one gulp while fondling his balls, Severus brought Harry to a crashing orgasm in a matter of moments.

For his part, Harry felt as if he was submerged in sensations and largely unable to distinguish one from another. He had no control over what he felt, where it came from, how it was processed within himself - his body seemed to be at the command of another, until he simply exploded in a garbled mix arousal and stimulation. He'd had some draining releases courtesy of Severus' talented hands and tongue, and this one was among the most thoroughly draining. He struggled but could not really find his way back to consciousness before the total relaxation that he felt in the wake of this orgasm allowed sleep to claim him.

Severus slowly sat back up, crosslegged on the bed next to Harry, watching the flushed and heated skin slowly cool off and the ragged breath become smooth and deep. His own need could wait a few minutes, as he enjoyed the sight of his bondmate's beautiful if now depleted body stretched out and open before him. There was no modesty or any of Harry's persistent attempts to cover himself. Severus truly hoped that the day would come, not too far in the future, where a wide-awake Harry would be comfortable in that position.

When he stood, Severus used his magic to clean the bed linens of evidence of Harry's release, but decided that sometimes, the non-magical approach was better for cleaning a wizard. With an "Accio, warm, damp flannel," he summoned a cloth from the bathroom and used it to gently wipe Harry himself clean, enjoying the intimate touching even if Harry was unaware of it. When Severus finally took is own warm shower before joining Harry in bed for a night's rest, it took almost no time for him to bring himself to a wrenching release in the shower.

X X X X X X X X X X

Narcissa was a bit surprised to have Lucius join her for dinner that evening, as she had assumed he would find some reason to be at Hogwarts for the last squib class of the year. He'd contrived to be there for several, and Narcissa assumed that he'd want to be there when Harry Potter was speaking.

"I'm delighted, if a bit surprised, that you are joining me for supper, Lucius. I fully expected that you would be dining at Hogwarts tonight. Is there a problem?" she asked him in greeting when he swept into the dining room and took his place at the opposite end of the long table.

He looked somehow different tonight. She couldn't put her finger right on it, so she took a mental inventory. His hair was tied back in a ponytail, nothing unusual in that. The robe he was wearing was one she'd selected for him about a year ago; it was quite sumptuous and that color did look stunning on him, but she'd seen him wear it a number of times before, so it couldn't be that. She catalogued the jewels on his hands, and the tunic he wore beneath the robe – all were familiar items. Why, then, did he look different?

"I am not going to be going to Hogwarts tonight, my dear," Lucius answered. "I've work to do here, to prepare for the presentation that I am making to the Wizengamot tomorrow. I've nearly finished the work that I took on for Potter, undoing the legislation that impaired the legal rights of werewolves and vampires. Brearsley and Steppens, along with some of their law clerks, will be joining me here later to put the finishing touches on all of it. We'll be using the back parlor, so we won't be in your way."

She nodded in acceptance, because it was understood between them that if Lucius was conducting business in their home, she wanted no part of it. She kept up her usual well-mannered banter of small talk, and he did the same, throughout the meal, although she was studying him with much more interest than she'd showed in at least ten years. What was different? Why was there anything about Lucius worth studying tonight, when she hadn't seen any reason to do that for so long?

It wasn't until she was brushing her hair as she sat before her mirror preparing for bed that an answer to those questions occurred to her. There had been more life in Lucius' eyes, and in his entire face, actually, than she'd noticed in many years. That was the difference. His face looked lively and the usual studied look of nonchalance was missing. The more she thought on it, the clearer it became.

Lucius looked passionate about this work.

Suddenly, and for the first time, Narcissa wished that he'd invited her to attend the Wizengamot session tomorrow. Lucius had not mentioned it before this evening, and normally, she avoided the Ministry and most of the people one met there at all costs. But obviously, something was different this time, at least for her husband.

As she drifted off to sleep, Narcissa pondered how best to manipulate him over breakfast tomorrow morning so that he would extend that invitation.

No doubt the fact that Narcissa had used the words "passion" and "Lucius" in the same sentence for the first time in a long time contributed to a dream she had (actually, to a dream that she really enjoyed) that night. When she had learned that Lucius had taken a mistress just year or two after Draco's birth, she was relieved that her intimate duties to her husband would now be few and far between. It wasn't too long thereafter that an opportunity had presented itself for her to begin an affair with a devastatingly handsome (but ever so discreet) young man. The names and faces changed over the years, but the pattern continued. As a consequence, both Narcissa and Lucius had spent most of their married lives each enjoying a very satisfactory sex life, just not with each other.

She awoke from her dream all sweaty and "bothered" in the middle of the night, and had to wonder if it might be time to consider bedding her husband for a change.

X X X X X X X X X X

Remus had an irritated husband of his own to deal with at Grimmauld Place that evening when the returned from Hogwarts.

"The nerve of that man, pawing at Harry in that way, right were everyone could see them!" were the first words out of Sirius' mouth as he stepped out of the floo, right behind Remus.

Remus knew full well what Sirius was talking about, but was not going to make this easy for him. In his calmest, most reasonable voice, he replied "Well, that might be a bit harsh, Sirius. When Harry spoke about his parents' death, I thought Arthur stepping up to put an arm around his shoulders was a very compassionate act, myself."

"Huh? What? Arthur? I'm talking about Snape, you dolt!"

Sirius was working himself up, even starting to pace in front of the fireplace, his long coat and curly hair flailing around him with every turn.

"Oh, stop it! Nothing inappropriate happened. I was there – I saw!" Remus insisted.

"Didn't you see that Snape was holding Harry's hand when they got to the reception? What in Merlin's name was that old bastard thinking? And he put his arm around his shoulders, right there when they were leaving, right in front of the entire room!"

"I was standing right next to you when they arrived! Harry let go of Severus' hand as soon as he caught you glaring at them! I doubt they got more than three steps past the threshold of the room before that happened, and I don't imagine anyone else noticed or cared. I had put my arm around your shoulder, several times this evening. Come on, Sirius, be reasonable here. Harry likes the man, loves him, most likely. Remember how furious you got with that picture in the Prophet of them kissing at the Ministry? When you were ready to rip Severus' head off, we learned that Harry was the one who initiated the kiss."

Sirius looked very betrayed for a moment, as if he'd expected Remus to take his side, and not offer extremely reasonable arguments as to why he was wrong. But at least he stopped pacing. Almost pouting, he muttered "I can't help it. I know he's not the total bastard I've believed him to be for years. But I still don't like it."

Putting his arms around Sirius and pulling him into a tight hug, Remus spoke into the unruly brown hair. "Harry is not a baby any more, you know that. He's a very remarkable, very mature young man, and he'll be of legal age in just a few weeks. He's really grown up, really come into his own, since the Elder Demon and the Calling, haven't you noticed? He knows his own mind, and he seems to be very fond of his bondmate. I believe that Harry and Severus are going to be together for a long time, and I worry, Sirius, I really worry, that your constant sniping at Severus will drive a wedge, not between Harry and Severus, but between you and Harry. Don't you see that? You are risking losing Harry here, and I know that's the last thing you want."

It was a great curse for him that Sirius was an extremely bright man, allowing him to intellectually know something to be true even as his emotions railed against it. He was feeling that curse right now. He wanted to have time with Harry, all the time he'd been denied while locked up in Azkaban. He had read Bellatrix's letter, which completely voided everything behind his decades-long hatred of Severus, yet he could not tamp down that hatred. His mind agreed with Remus – he stood to be the loser here. He would alienate Harry, depriving himself of that precious time he wanted so badly, if he persisted in giving in to his unfounded hatred of Harry's bondmate.

Why did everything have to be so complicated?

Remus never broke the hug in which he held Sirius, but he could tell from a sudden lessening of the tension in the man that his intellect was at least temporarily winning the battle over his emotions. In his softest voice, lest he stir anything up again, he said "Come on, off to bed with us. Busy day tomorrow."

[A/N: My apologies for the long time between chapters. I had a small vacation in there, and then of course, work piled up when I got back. I'd meant to include a note to that effect with the last chapter, but didn't do that right. I also wanted to respond to a question that I was asked, for my thoughts on male pregnancy, and would that be happening in this story. Josephine Darcy made it clear in her story that there would be no mpreg in The Marriage Stone, so that's not happening in my AU ending. Beyond the four-squares of this story, I wouldn't put mpreg into a story anyway. It just seems too contrived, and that sort of sci-fi doesn't appeal to me at all.

Many thanks to all of you kind souls who take the time to offer comments and feedback. You're wonderful!]


	32. Ch 109 Rewriting History

Chapter 109 – Rewriting History

Harry and Severus followed Albus through the floo from the Headmaster's office to Remus' office at the Ministry right after breakfast on Thursday morning. Severus exited the floo in his usual elegant manner, brushing the odd piece of soot from the sleeve of his robe, and he turned just in time to catch Harry, stumbling as usual, as he fell out of the large fireplace. With a smirk directed to Harry, he helped Harry get his feet under him on the carpet, and gave his robes a quick brush. "I'll get the hang of that some day," Harry muttered.

They were a bit late, owing to the fact that Harry had insisted on wearing school-appropriate clothes to the Great Hall for breakfast, and then returning to their rooms to change into whatever one wore to Wizengamot sessions; no way was he going to show up at breakfast gussied up like that. Severus had to go along with him on that point. Even though Severus had selected his own and Harry's clothes and placed them on the bed before they left, and even though they flooed directly from their rooms to the Headmaster's office, getting into breeches, and linen shirts, and summer-weight doublets, and all the rest, took time.

Remus was already dressed in the distinctive robe and hat that identified him as a member of the Wizengamot, and he was just helping Sirius into his robe. Albus had rejected the uniform, and was wearing instead a turquoise robe with silver and gold shooting stars and purple trim, together with a purple and green pointed hat. Sirius' eyebrows went up at the colorful ensemble; Harry was reasonably sure he was considering what alternative attire he might select for the next meeting. Apparently, there was room for individual choice of dress at these things, contrary to what Minister Bones had told him.

Harry greeted Sirius with a hug, and whispered into his ear as he did so "Don't even think of getting a robe like that – you won't get away with it!" Sirius looked surprised that Harry had read his mind, and chuckled as he shook his head at Harry. James could always read him like a book, too, and would have said the exact same thing. Yet another way in which Harry now reminded him of James.

Harry had just given Remus a quick hug in greeting, when a knock sounded at the door, followed by the entrance of Auror Stark. "Gentlemen, Madam Minister asked me to escort you all to the Chamber, as the Wizengamot session will begin as soon as you can all be seated. Please follow me."

Albus followed along immediately, and there was a bit of a stir right behind him as the other four sorted out how they would follow. Sirius seemed intent on walking with Harry, although Remus wanted to walk with Sirius, and Severus had no intention of walking with anyone other than Harry, sans Sirius. With a quick look shared between Severus and Remus, Remus took Sirius firmly by the arm and frog-marched him along behind Albus, and Severus placed his hand on Harry's shoulder to hold him back a second before they followed along.

"Allow the others to enter, just a second or two, before we go in. Nothing is going to happen until you arrive, I'm sure, so this way they do not appear to be the last ones to arrive," he explained.

Harry smiled at that most un-Slytherin-like display of concern for others, as they hastened to catch up with the small parade led by Auror Stark down the gleaming black marble-paved corridors leading to the Wizengamot chamber.

Harry shivered off his unpleasant memories of these corridors from prior visits: the walk with Mr. Weasley to his own hearing after he had used a Patronus charm to save himself and Dudley from an attack by Dementors, the horrid dream in which he learned that Mr. Weasley had been attacked by Nagini, the hearing to determine if Remus had gone feral, the even more wrenching sight of Severus dueling for his life against a long line of hired thugs sent to get Harry's bondmate out of the way. He even spared a second to consider the sight of all those thugs blasted into one of these marble walls by his burst of wandless magic. He didn't think that any of them had died as a result of whatever injuries they had suffered in that pile-up, and felt quite justified that they deserved whatever harm befell them that day, so he did not linger on that thought too long.

Severus caught the shiver, and cast a wary eye at Harry. "Are you chilled? I can spell an insulating layer into that summer-weight robe, if you'd like," he offered. "Some of the corridors down here seem to be as bad as the dungeons back at Hogwarts."

"No, no, I'm fine. If the Wizengamot chamber is cold, I might ask you for that favor, but I don't need it right now. I was just thinking about the other times I've been here, or seen this place, and it just came to me – I don't know. Horrid, cold place, if you ask me."

Severus considered that. He personally shared Harry's assessment. Given Harry's role in the wizarding world, though, he expected that the two of them would likely be finding themselves at the Ministry for various reasons in the future, and it was not wise to encourage Harry to regard it so negatively. "This part of the building is forbidding, by intent. Don't judge the entire Ministry building by this area. Most of it consists of comfortable offices and less austere public spaces," he offered in a carefully neutral tone.

They had arrived at the Chamber doors, and Auror Stark held the door open and stood aside as Albus, Remus and Sirius entered to take their seats. As soon as he saw them get to the stairs up to their seats, Severus nodded for Harry to follow, and as Harry and then Severus entered, all eyes went to them. As one, all in the Chamber rose.

Harry flushed at the display – this was likely something he'd never get used to, this "standing up" thing. Severus caught his reaction, and realized that the others were going to remain standing until he'd taken his seat. The Chamber gallery was uncommonly crowded today with visitors, most of whom Severus recognized as the advisors and legal representatives who worked on Malfoy matters. They had presumably been the ones to whom Lucius turned to get this review and redrafting done as quickly as possible.

To his surprise, Severus spotted Narcissa sitting with Draco. Draco's presence was not a shock; this was a big moment for his father, and it was to be expected that he would have asked Draco to attend. Narcissa was another story altogether. To the best of Severus' knowledge, she'd never attended a Wizengamot session before, and her visits to the Ministry itself could easily be counted on one hand. While Lucius might have wanted his wife in the gallery today, she was notoriously unwilling to participate in events of this sort. He could not imagine what sort of bribe Lucius had to offer to get her to attend today.

Severus spotted seats in the front row of the gallery, which would afford a clear view of both the Wizengamot members and whomever was presenting, so taking Harry's elbow, he guided him along and, with a nod, suggested that they sit. As soon as they were getting settled in their seats, all the others in the Chamber took their seats as well, and Harry relaxed.

Minister Bones removed her reading glasses and spoke from her seat in the center of the boxes reserved for Wizengamot members.

"Lord Potter, Lord Snape, witches and wizards of the Wizengamot, colleagues and guests, I bid you welcome. We gather today for a long-overdue and most auspicious occasion. Lord Malfoy has completed, with the help of many of the guests present here today, an exhaustive review of many centuries of our laws and regulations, and asked for this special session today to present his conclusions and a comprehensive legislative package." With a nod of thanks to the several rows of lawyers and advisors in the gallery, she turned to Lucius, seated in the row in front of her. "Lord Malfoy, the floor is yours."

Lucius swept to the floor of the Chamber. Severus noticed that for once, Lucius was wearing a plain robe – the same as his peers on the Wizengamot. Severus knew Lucius well enough to know that today would be theater of the highest order; all details had been considered, from every word he would be speaking, to the clothes he wore, the boots, even the rings on his fingers. It would not surprise him to learn that there had even been some work on the lighting in the Chamber over night. He softly muttered to Harry as Lucius took his place "Let the show begin."

And what a show it was!

Harry knew precious little of wizarding law. He recalled Remus' telling him that there were two laws enacted over 400 years ago that severely restricted the rights of werewolves and vampires, and that Remus was shocked when he saw from Mr. Malfoy's work how often those laws or their sentiments had crept into subsequent laws and regulations. That pretty much summed up Harry's knowledge and awareness of the challenge that was before Mr. Malfoy.

For his part, Lucius had assumed that Harry's knowledge of all this was minimal, and he suspected that the awareness of the part of many others on the Wizengamot and in the gallery was at that same level, although they would never admit to that. He had constructed his performance, or presentation, to educate without appearing to be condescending, and succeeded largely because of the input he'd received from Remus Lupin over the last several days.

Lucius told of the pure-blood mania that swept through the wizarding world those centuries ago. Lycanthropy had been a sad fact of wizard life for many hundreds of years at that point, but it was still totally misunderstood by many wizards. This meant that precautions, routine today, were generally not taken to control the inevitable problems that arose with each full moon.

The muggle world back then was governed by superstitions and suspicions, and a particularly bloodthirsty evening involving dozens of werewolves roaming free in a large muggle community not too far from Godric's Hollow tipped the muggle world into hysteria. Godric's Hollow had not yet become unplottable, and a mob of muggles descended on the village, wreaking significant damage. The witches and wizards were all able to apparate away to escape harm, of course, but the event was all that the pure-blood fanatics needed to stir up wizarding sentiments against werewolves, and the first of the laws under discussion today was written and adopted by the Wizengamot.

Lucius added that the fanatics took advantage of the sentiments against werewolves, and began a campaign to enact a similar law regarding vampires, and soon thereafter, a second law was passed to largely eliminate the rights of those with vampirism.

Harry was listening intently, but his ears pricked up at the mention of Godric's Hollow, the Potter family seat. He recalled a long-ago history class in his old muggle school that involved a discussion of the attitudes of many people in the middle-ages to anything that seemed different, resulting in attacks on women who were alleged to be witches. He recalled feeling a certain empathy for those long-ago victims, because he himself was the focus of Dudley's "Harry Hunting" game. Today he shuddered as he realized that his empathy could have been personal as well – it was likely that his ancestors were touched by some of that.

As Remus had explained to him, sporadic efforts to repeal those laws over the ensuing centuries never got any traction. The laws persisted, and the bias they represented began to seep into all manner of other laws and regulations. The list presented by Mr. Malfoy was long, and included such obvious things as civil rights, voting laws, right of inheritance, land ownership and taxes, but also included things like the licenses required of apothecaries and publicans.

Having explained the history, Lucius proposed his solution. Three parchments appeared in front of each member of the Wizengamot.

"The first parchment before you, Members of the Wizengamot, involves those laws and regulations where the appropriate approach is straightforward repeal, of either entire law or regulations, or parts of laws or regulations, with no other change or action needed. We repeal the anti-werewolf and anti-vampire laws of 400 years ago in their entirety, and then parts of other laws that either reference them or advance their mission. In all cases, simply excising the language is sufficient and leaves the law or regulation otherwise intact."

There was a slight pause as the Members unrolled the parchment, put on reading glasses in a few cases, and took a moment to peruse the information. Heads nodded in agreement as they read.

When it appeared that his colleagues were done with their scan of the first parchment, Lucius directed their attention to the longer, second parchment. "As you might imagine, sometimes, excising language from a part of a law or regulation leaves something that is unintelligible. In these instances, I propose that we make those changes that are needed to accomplish our purpose here today, and then adopt further amendments to the laws or regulations so that they continue to function as originally intended absent the repealed portion."

Once again, there was a rustle of parchment as the Wizengamot members unrolled the parchments and read over the entries. Minister Bones interrupted the quiet room. "Lord Malfoy, I would be very comfortable enacting the changes that you propose in the first parchment today, but feel that we all need to spend some time more carefully studying the changes you propose in this parchment."

Very smoothly, Lucius agreed. "Of course, Madam Minister. My colleagues on the Wizengamot will need time to read and consider the proposals in this, and in the final parchment," as he made an expansive gesture to the third parchment. "In this parchment, I am proposing several new laws that will assure that the changes we are making are clear and understood and not accidentally or easily thwarted by future enactments."

While neither Harry nor Severus had any idea what was in there, they shared a look and a nod that confirmed that they agreed with the approach. Severus chose not to give voice to his inner thought: he wanted to be sure that Albus Dumbledore read through all that material very carefully. If Malfoy had snuck in something that might some day counter this work, or (more likely) represent a substantial commercial advantage to some Malfoy business interest, Albus was the only wizard alive today that Severus would trust to understand all the nuances and find the self-serving item, or the Trojan Horse, hidden in the parchments.

As attention shifted to the last parchment, Lucius continued. "If I may have your attention a while longer, my friends, you can read that later, at your leisure." Most of his colleagues seemed startled at his referring to them as his "friends." Harry was certain that Remus was trying very hard to quell a smile, or was it a smirk, that was attempting to gain hold on his face. Sirius made no attempt to hide the frankly incredulous look on his face.

"I would just like to explain the thinking that is behind those proposals. We should all take the necessary time to review the material, discuss amendments you believe are appropriate, and give such serious matters our unrushed and well-considered attention."

Lucius had stood rather still during most of his presentation, up to this point, but he became more animated as the dry legal bit concluded. He paced a bit, taking long, sure strides, and when he spun, his robes billowed out, revealing the expensive and exquisitely tailored breeches and doublet that everyone had assumed were under there. His hand gestures became more expansive, now involving his entire arm sweeping about.

The man was truly in his element.

Lucius outlined a vision of a society that guaranteed all members certain rights that could not be abridged by a simple majority of the Wizengamot at any particular time. In the cases of magical afflictions, including both those known today and those that would appear in the populace in the future, the full wizarding world was pledged to devote its attention to finding cures if possible, and treatments if cures were not possible. Funds were to be set aside by the Ministry to assure that the Potions Masters Guild was able to devote the resources necessary to accomplish the required research and testing.

Beyond that, he spoke of assuring that access to the Ministry be assured to all, and that new procedures be adopted to prevent any one wizard from having undue influence on any matter before the Ministry or the Wizengamot. He did not speak directly to the question of the current process by which the Minister was elected, but the overall direction of his comments certainly caused Harry to wonder if he meant to do away with the current system, that clustered most of the votes among a few old families and reduced others, like Remus, to very marginal status.

The overview was enhanced by the absolute passion that Lucius brought to the topic. The usual frosty patrician tones were replaced by enthusiasm and excitement. Once he covered the overview, he began to explain some of the nuances of the legislation that he was offering for the consideration of the Wizengamot, and at that point, Harry's mind began to drift.

It was clear to Harry from the details that Mr. Malfoy was sharing that the nuances of the actual proposal were beyond him – he'd ask Remus for an explanation later. As Harry tried to at least appear to be interested and attentive, he soon found himself fascinated by the man. Mr. Malfoy absolutely swept across the floor, hair trailing behind him, but always falling perfectly when he stopped. Harry made a mental note to ask Severus about the hair, given the perpetually messy state of Harry's own. There must be a spell or something that makes it behave that way. The robe moved the same way Severus' did – was there a spell involved there, too? The billowing robe was a bit grandiose for Harry's own taste and small stature; it definitely worked well for Mr. Malfoy, and of course it was practically Severus' trademark, but Harry could not see the same impression coming from a robe billowing around someone as short as he was.

Harry noticed that Sirius appeared to be gobsmacked by what Mr. Malfoy was saying, and Remus looked quite taken aback. Now that he thought to scan all of the faces sitting in the Wizengamot seats, he realized that most of the others shared that astonishment. The three who did not, and who looked very pleased with the things Mr. Malfoy was saying, were Lord Aventine, Merik Volpine and Professor Dumbledore.

Harry then looked over at Draco and his mother. An interesting contrast. Draco was still following along with his father very intently, causing Harry to recall that Draco was as diligent as Hermione when it came to reading the newspapers and keeping well-informed and current on events in the wizarding world. Mrs. Malfoy did not seem to be listening to her husband as much as watching, and she looked quite enthralled. Harry idly wondered if Mr. Malfoy had put her up to this. He was doing a very nice job with his presentation but nothing deserving quite that level of adoration.

He would have dearly loved to steal a glance at Severus' face, to see his reaction to this presentation, but that would require physically turning his head. That would give away the fact that he'd stopped paying attention to what Mr. Malfoy was saying, so Harry contented himself with a glance down to his own hands in his lap, which enabled him to see with his side vision that Severus was sitting stock still, his own hands resting on his legs.

Eventually, Lucius ceded the floor to Lord Aventine, who had asked to speak on behalf of the proposals. Harry remembered seeing the man as a vampire, when he appeared young, handsome and vigorous, if not exactly human, and then the first time after the cure, still rather handsome but a human starting to show his age. He looked to be aging as time passed from his cure, not the burst of aging that Severus had feared. He was explaining that he supported the repeal of the anti-vampire laws on principle, although from a practical standpoint, since vampirism was now readily curable, that was not strictly necessary.

"I think the most important aspect of the legislative package put forth by my colleague, Lord Malfoy, is the assurance that we will never again consign important research to a dusty box in a back cupboard. The centuries over which so many suffered with the curse of vampirism, when research had already been done and could have led to a cure in a few short years . . . " Lord Aventine was momentarily overcome with emotion, drawing Harry's close attention back to what was being said on the floor of the Chamber. A quick glance at those in his line of sight suggested that everyone else had caught, and reacted to, that emotion. "Nothing diminishes the immense gratitude I feel toward Lords Potter and Snape for their contributions, but I mourn all those lost years."

Harry felt the stares of others now directed toward himself and Severus, and he looked at his hands in his lap very uncomfortably. While everyone had assumed that he did as he promised Lord Aventine in this very Chamber not that long ago, and that Severus picked up the abandoned research and completed it, this was the first actual confirmation of their role in the sudden disappearance of vampirism from the magical world. The merest nudge from Severus' elbow reminded him to sit up and look ahead, and he nodded to Lord Aventine in acknowledgement.

The older wizard stood a bit straighter and squared his shoulders as he seemed to compose himself more fully. "In any event, we no longer need legislation to protect the rights of those inflicted with vampirism because we can cure it, but we must assure that the cure remains available and accessible to any who contract the condition until we can completely eradicate it. We also need to be sure that a condition that arises in our midst in the future is not treated as vampirism was 400 years ago. I stand in support of this legislation because it will protect our future."

Merik Volpine stood next and took the floor, his thick, strong body and wolfish grin a dramatic counterpoint to the much smaller and clearly human Aventine. He covered the floor before the seats of the Wizengamot in just a few strides, and even his slightest gesture conveyed brute strength and power.

With a nod to Severus and Harry, he began. "Those afflicted with lycanthropy owe the same debt of gratitude to those who found and adapted ancient cures to our current condition. Not all of us are cured, however. The rights of those not able to shed the curse of lycanthropy remain of concern. I fully support the legislation that Lord Malfoy has presented here today. Of course, I had the advantage of extra time already to review and consider it. I urge my colleagues on the Wizengamot to take the time necessary to give this the appropriate consideration, but not one moment more. We have waited too long already to take this step."

With an almost menacing look at those colleagues on the Wizengamot, Volpine strode back to his seat. Although everyone knew that Volpine was definitely among those who had been cured by lycanthropy and represented no threat to them, more than a few Wizengamot members looked uncomfortable under his glare. Lucius took the floor for a final time.

With a flourish and slight bow (he was a Malfoy, after all), he addressed the Minister. "Madam Minister, I commend into your hands my legislative package. I believe you noted before that you were comfortable with prompt action on the repeals I have recommended. I hope that you will allow us to remove the blight of those two ancient laws from our world today, while this body takes the time to execute its obligations to the wizarding world in more careful deliberation of the amendments and new laws I have proposed."

There was a sudden, low burst of conversation in the Chamber. Members of the Wizengamot whispered among themselves, as did many of those in the gallery. Some were sharing astonishment at this new Lucius Malfoy, who had proposed legislation that went against nearly everything his family had stood for over many centuries. Others were reacting to the legislation itself. A few were expressing lingering worry about whether Volpine was really safe.

Harry stole a quick look at Severus, whose usual inscrutable glare now had a hint of suspicion. That was what Harry would have expected, given Severus' reluctance to believe that Mr. Malfoy had, really, changed. The Headmaster looked inordinately pleased, as he read the first parchment closely. Remus also looked pleased, and Sirius was somewhere between amazement and disbelief. Draco looked very proud of his father. Harry felt good for him; Draco had likely stepped onto a new path himself, albeit not one Harry had seen, when he married Charlie, and it was possible that his father's new path was much more aligned with him now. And Mrs. Malfoy – what a strange look on her face! That wasn't pride, exactly, but there was a great deal of interest and even a little bit of adoration there.

With a firm rap of her gavel, Minister Bones brought the Chamber back to order.

She smiled as she nodded at Lucius, and then at the several rows of people who looked exactly like one would imagine lawyers, law clerks and researchers to look like. "Thank you, Lord Malfoy, for both the extraordinary work that you and your researchers and advisors have done in analyzing the legal precedents and developing proposals to advance a new direction for the wizarding world." She looked over at Albus, who smiled and nodded back at her. "I would like to propose a schedule for our consideration of these proposals. I will entertain a motion for a vote immediately on the repeals you have proposed in the first parchment. I propose that this body reconvene in one week to consider the amendments that are outlined in the second parchment. And lastly, I propose that we reconvene in two months to consider the new legislation outlined in the third parchment. Professor Dumbledore, do you agree?"

There was a slight movement at the corner of Severus' mouth as the Minister sought Albus' agreement. Apparently, he was not the only one in the room who regarded the old man as the one person able to quickly assess Lucius' work and spot anything in there that might not belong.

Albus was playing up the "old man" thing today; he arose slowly and straightened up carefully, choosing to speak from his seat rather than the floor of the Chamber. "Yes, Madam Minister, I agree completely. I am most impressed, Lord Malfoy, with the thoroughness and attention to detail that you and your team have shown in developing this very comprehensive proposal, and I thank you all." At that point, he led the assembly in an impromptu (and unusual, even in the sometimes raucous world of Wizengamot sessions) round of applause. When the clapping stopped, he continued.

"The outright repeals suggested in the first parchment are all in order; I've read through them, and I've seen my colleagues looking over the list, and I believe we can call a vote immediately, in fact, I so move."

There was a chorus of "Second" from what had to be at least half of the members of the Wizengamot in response to the motion. Minister Bones was about to use her gavel again to confirm the motion and seconds and call for a vote, but Albus raised his hand to delay her for a moment.

"If I may, Madam Minister. I also want to say that I fully support your schedule. We all need to study the amendments, and allowing a week gives everyone all the time they will need, but also a sense of urgency. New legislation must always be carefully considered, especially since some of Lord Malfoy's proposals are of great significance and consequence, and reconvening to discuss those in two months will assure that we are all prepared for that conversation."

Albus took his seat as Minister Bones did her parliamentary duty and moved the matter of repeal toward a vote. When the question was properly called for a vote, every wand was raised, all the tips lit with lumos.

A rap of her gavel, as she pronounced the vote unanimously in favor of repeal of the laws as noted in the parchment that became part of the record of the proceedings, brought the session to an end. "Thank you all. We stand adjourned."

A burst of loud noise greeted the end of the session. Reporters rushed out to get this into the next edition of the Daily Prophet and assorted other newspapers that served the magical world. Conversations that had been whispered were now conducted in full voice. People began standing and mulling about in the aisles leading out of the Chamber, expanding the conversations beyond those with whom they had been seated.

Harry stood next to Severus, who put a protective arm around his shoulders as he began to maneuver the two of them out of the Chamber and back to Remus' office. Auror Stark spotted them on the move, and quickly made his way over to assist in shooing hangers-on out of the way so they could leave. Remus and Sirius waited for Albus and those three proceeded out, as well, heading to Remus' office by a different corridor.

When the group had assembled back in Remus' office, everyone seemed to speak at once. To the amusement of the others, Severus and Sirius found themselves in complete agreement. "I don't trust Malfoy – he's up to something!" were the first words out of Sirius' mouth. At the same time, Severus said "What game is Malfoy playing?"

Albus gave the two one of his more annoying omniscient grins. "Ah, my boys, still so distrustful? Even after Harry saw his Path, and told us that Lucius is now irrevocably on a different path? I think what we saw today validates what Harry told us!"

Remus wasn't quite so enthusiastic, but had to agree. "I read that first parchment myself, and those were exactly the laws that we'd discussed over the last few weeks – the ones we needed to repeal. I took a quick look at the second parchment and it also looks just like we'd discussed. It's all rather straightforward."

Severus wasn't convinced. "Albus, you are the only wizard I would trust to spot any self-dealing or potential loopholes in all this. I will accept that simple repeals are straightforward, but anything else – there are just too many opportunities for self-dealing for someone like Lucius to be trusted. Even if we accept – and I'm not saying for a second that I do accept this – that Lucius is on a new path regarding his approach to the social and civic issues in our world, he's too sharp a dealer in financial matters."

Harry noticed that Sirius seemed to want to agree with that, but he seemed conflicted. Harry would wager that Sirius' problem was reluctance in principle to agreeing with Severus, rather than with anything Severus had said. But Professor Dumbledore was undeterred in his enthusiasm.

"Oh, I will look it all over very carefully. I do trust Lucius and his advisors, but they are all young men, and I am more fearful of small errors based on their general lack of experience in the world than on efforts to grant themselves significant advantages." The four others in the room looked surprised at Albus' description. There were a few young clerks in the group that Lucius had gathered, but his solicitors and researchers were all in their forties or fifties, maybe even a couple in their sixties, and all had years of experience.

Albus saw the looks that were exchanged, and smiled over his half-moon glasses. "When you are as old as I am, everyone looks young," he allowed. "But there is enormous history, and background, and reasons why things were done they way they were done in the past, and someone who's only been focused on some of those areas for twenty or thirty years is unlikely to have a complete appreciation for all the nuances. I do want to be certain that we address everything and do it definitively."

Into the silence that followed that observation, Harry's stomach growled loudly. "Ah, yes, a reminder that we've been here all morning and it's time for lunch, Albus continued. "Amelia is hosting a luncheon in her conference room for those remaining here for the presentation this afternoon."

This time the group that formed up to follow Albus along to the Minister's conference room did not spend time jockeying for position. Harry was very interested in Remus' take on what had gone on in the Wizengamot session and immediately fell into step with him to pose his questions. Realizing that they were now left to follow along together behind their bondmates, Severus and Sirius exchanged uneasy glances, and walked along stoically, in silence.

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry was bursting with curiosity as he entered the private reception room that afternoon. He'd never seen an "Order of Merlin" ceremony, or even the actual medal.

The luncheon had been pleasant, the food good and he'd been able to sit with Remus, Severus keeping a vigilant eye on him from across the table, and Remus had answered all his questions. He explained the bigger picture around which Lucius' proposals needed to be considered. Harry realized he'd understood a bit more than he thought he had; the "fuzzy" places were, indeed, still fuzzy in the proposal, not just a reflection of Harry's own limited experience.

The meal ended just short of dessert, with a promise that sweets would be served after the ceremony, which would convene in the reception room momentarily.

There was a small dais at one end of the room, just a small platform with a small table on it, with a small velvet box sitting atop it. If all the action was to take place in a space where only two or three people could stand at the same time, this was obviously not a ceremony involving more than speeches. That dampened some of Harry's enthusiasm, although he reminded himself that this was for Severus. He'd be enthusiastic, no matter what.

When Minister Bones saw Harry and Severus enter the room, she immediately approached them.

"Lord Snape, Lord Potter," she began with a nod to each in turn, "there is no formal protocol for these awards. Traditionally, the Minister of Magic makes a speech in the Wizengamot Chamber, in a very public meeting, and then either presents the honoree with the medallion, or gives it to some person held in special regard by the honoree who invests them with the medallion. I think that will work here, as well. Lord Snape, how would you like to receive the medallion?"

It was clear that Severus had not considered this aspect of the presentation before, and he seemed to waffle. Harry wasn't entirely sure what to make of that. He recalled that Severus had been worried that he was either actually getting this, or would be perceived to be getting this because of his bonding to Harry, and not on his own merit. Maybe he did not even want Harry here? Or would he expect that Harry would participate? Cautiously, he offered "Severus, it would be my honor to participate and present you with the medallion, but I'm equally honored if you chose to have Professor Dumbledore or even Master Dorester participate instead. Or even to have Madam Bones present you with the medallion."

Severus was running the different possibilities here in his head, but always came back to the fact that if Harry was not up there with him, people would infer a fracture in their relationship. There were enough people trying to interfere in their relationship already, and he certainly did not want to give anyone any encouragement that Harry might be amenable to interference.

"I was not aware that anyone but the Minister presented the medallion; given the options that you have outlined, Madam Minister, I cannot imagine anyone other than my bondmate performing that task." Harry looked relieved, and Severus' heart ached at the sight. Once again, he'd caused Harry anguish and he'd not intended it. Severus reached out and took Harry's hand, squeezing it slightly. "That's alright with you, Harry? You are willing?"

Harry's face morphed into a proud smile, as Severus managed to entertain two thoughts at the same time: "Merlin, he's beautiful!" and "I've got to work with him on not allowing his every thought to be reflected so clearly on his face."

"Severus, it is my greatest honor. You know that."

Minister Bones seemed pleased with that turn of events, and she took each by the elbow and nudged them in the direction of the dais.

The ceremony itself was brief and to the point. When they took their places, the small group went silent immediately and directed their attention to the dais. Minister Bones spoke for just a few minutes, focusing the bulk of her time on Severus' work with certain ancient documents to rediscover and perfect a potion that was able to cure so many of lycanthropy. She added "And, as we heard today in the Wizengamot chamber, Lord Snape has also played a major role in the elimination of vampirism as an affliction among witches and wizards. While that is not a matter of public record at the request of all concerned in that work, in this private setting, I would add my thanks to him for his contribution there, as well."

With that, she opened the velvet box and extracted a gleaming gold medallion hung at the end of a wide black velvet ribbon. She handed it to Harry, saying "Lord Snape will be invested with this Order of Merlin, First Class, at the hand of his bondmate, Lord Potter."

Harry nodded his thanks to the Minister and accepted the medallion. He spread the ribbon apart and reached up, as Severus bent down a bit, and slid it over his head, and then arranged the ribbon and medallion to fall appropriately down Severus' chest. It was a very impressive medallion, and looked very stunning on Severus. Impulsively, Harry reached up and placed a chaste kiss on his bondmate's lips before stepping away.

Severus had been surprised by the kiss, and while he'd accept a kiss from Harry under any circumstances in which it was offered, there was a downside today: he was going to hear about this from Black. He surmised that he was expected to say a few words, so he turned to face the small group.

"Thank you, Madam Minister. I appreciate this honor, of course, and am grateful to all of you who join us here today for this small ceremony. I must acknowledge the contributions of my bondmate, Harry Potter, in the things that I have accomplished that have led to this recognition. His translations of documents that had existed only in Parseltongue informed my own brewing and was essential to my bring these potions to our world. I owe a debt to the authors of those ancient documents, as well: Salazar Slytherin, and Silvius Ventus. Salazar knew the origin of lycanthropy, and had created a potion that provided a directional foundation for what I brewed a thousand years later. Silvius had documented his work, which was left unfinished, but is now completed. I also wish to acknowledge the contribution of my mother, a trailblazer in her own right in the potions field, whose notes and records have yielded awareness of long-forgotten ingredients that have proven useful. Once again, I thank you all for joining us today."

A beaming Harry led the gathering in a round of applause, after which the guests congregated at the front of the room to congratulate Severus, admire his medallion and shake his hand. Harry stood proudly at Severus' side and back a half-step, gladly taking the role that Severus assumed so often for him.

Cakes and sweets had appeared on tables scattered through the reception room, and house elves appeared to distribute flutes of champagne, cups of tea, or glasses of pumpkin juice, as tastes dictated. Harry stepped away for a moment to get a glass of pumpkin juice, as he was thirsty.

Across the reception room, standing amid a small group of dignitaries, was a very average-looking wizard in tasteful but not remarkable robes. He was not known to any of the wizards with whom he had been speaking, but at events like this, most attendees did not know everyone present, and all assumed that he was known to someone else, just not to them. He cleverly dodged any efforts to get him to introduce himself, although he was prepared to offer up an name that sounded ordinary and suggested a British ancestry.

As soon as Harry had stepped away from Severus, this wizard stepped slightly aside from those he'd been standing with, and surreptitiously drew his wand. Just as he was about to cast a spell, something about him drew Harry's attention to him from across the room, and Harry saw the wand movement.

In the same instant, the wizard drew back and cast an Avada Kedavra spell at Severus, and Harry wandlessly poured out a pulse of magic to stop it as he screamed for Severus to duck.


	33. Ch 110 The Strength of the Bond

Chapter 110 – The Strength of the Bond

Severus could not react in time to Harry's shouted warning. Harry's pulse of magic marginally deflected the Killing Curse as its green light sped toward him, preventing it from hitting him directly. Instead of being absorbed into his body, it glanced off the medallion that hung around his neck and hit the wall slightly behind Severus, where it caused several marble tiles to explode. Even the glancing hit with the spell, however, caused Severus to crumple immediately to the floor.

Mayhem broke loose in the room at that moment.

The wizard who had cast the Killing Curse was physically propelled by the pulse of magic from Harry high into the air and back with great force against the marble-tiled wall behind him. The sickening sound of his head being crushed as it struck against the marble was lost in the yelling and screaming that now filled the room.

Harry himself looked wild. A muggle might think he had electricity coursing through his body and sparking out his hands, as his hair stood on end a bit more than usual, and small flashes of light seemed to be tracing their way around his body. It was his magic, though. And it was frightening.

Fortunately, in the mayhem, only Albus Dumbledore saw it. Guests and Ministry officials had reacted as soon as they heard Harry yell, most by falling to the floor to protect themselves and their loved ones. Arthur Weasley was trying to shield Molly's body with his own as she tried to get herself down on floor, not so easy with her great pregnant belly. Lucius was similarly trying to shield Narcissa, as she was frantically looking for Draco. Sirius and Remus had both fallen immediately to the floor, neither quite sure what was going on. Several Wizengamot members were trying to crawl on their stomachs to get under the tables, for better protection.

Harry sagged momentarily from the effort of sending out such a massive pulse of magic without his wand, but he propelled himself forward to protect Severus on sheer willpower. Albus was standing near Severus, and kept his eye on Harry as soon as he realized what Harry had done. He saw the magic sparking around Harry, which told him that while the young man was physically staggered, his magic was still wild and potentially dangerous. He knew Harry would never intentionally hurt an innocent person with his magic, but until he got it under control, anyone who touched him was in danger.

Right now, people were cowering, with their heads down, so Harry was able to proceed to his fallen bondmate unimpeded by anyone trying to reach out to him or pull him down to safety. Albus began to speak to Harry as soon as he drew near. He'd seen Harry lose control of his magic before, but not to this extent, and he hoped that he could calm Harry down before anyone other than himself noticed that anything was amiss.

Harry recognized his Headmaster's voice, and registered that he was being spoken to. He had trouble concentrating, but the voice was urgent. Harry noticed the small sparks jumping between his fingers, almost as if he was observing this in someone else – he actually felt numb himself.

"Come over here, Harry, that's it, walk slowly. You're feeling the aftermath of a burst of wandless magic, that's all, that's the weakness in your limbs. You'll be fine, we'll have Madam Pomfrey check you over as soon as we get back to Hogwarts. Calm yourself. Focus. You need to be calm to help Severus. Take a nice, deep breath. There, there now. We'll get through this," the old man coached in his softest, most soothing voice. He knew that he needed to get Harry's attention, to get beneath the uncontrolled wild magic of rage and fury that had momentarily taken control of Harry. Once the boy was focused on him, Albus was certain that his caring nature would come to the fore, and Harry would be back.

Slowly, Albus saw Harry's eyes focus on him, and the wildness in those green eyes give way to a look of horror and distress. The pulsing magic bursts slowed and suddenly stopped. Recognizing that he was taking a risk himself, but also realizing that this needed to be done, Albus reached out his own hand to help Harry the final two or three steps to Severus' side. To his relief, the hand that took his own was cool and safe – no magic burst into Albus as Harry grabbed on to his hand. Albus let out the breath he had not realized he was holding.

Together, the two knelt beside Severus. Albus immediately placed a hand to Severus' neck, checking for a pulse, and he inhaled with relief. "He has a pulse and seems to be breathing. We need to have a qualified mediwizard check him, of course, but he is still alive." Harry had meanwhile bent low over Severus' body and had rested his head on Severus' chest, listening for his heartbeat. Harry could hear the steady beat of Severus' heart, but it was weak. This could not be good, but as long as Severus was still alive, there was hope.

Harry placed his hand, palm down, on Severus' chest just in front of his own face, and allowed his now-steady magic to gently push into Severus. Up until now, Harry had only tried to do this skin-on-skin, so he wasn't sure he'd be able to connect, but he was pleased that his magic went right through Severus' tunic and shirt. He recognized Severus' magical signature instantly, but something was not right about his magic. It seemed very fragmented. That blast must have done something to it. Harry allowed his magic to gently enfold Severus' magic, to protect it and comfort it, as it stirred around. Hopefully, it would eventually calm down and coalesce into a solid block of magic, amplifying that signature that had come to mean so much to Harry.

The Minister was already climbing to her feet, having been thrown to the ground by an aide as soon as Harry yelled. She straightened her robes and used her hands to brush back her hair from her face, as she quickly assessed Severus' situation. It didn't look good – he was lying on his back, deathly pale and unmoving. She was relieved at Albus' pronouncement that the man had not died.

She ran over to the wall, and spoke to one of the portraits hanging nearby, now crowded with the images of others whose portraits hung elsewhere in the Ministry with less advantageous views. "We need a mediwizard immediately. Any of you with portraits near our Infirmary, please, summon medical help immediately!" The images in the portrait quickly scattered, as everyone dispersed to get word out that help was needed in the reception room.

That was the scene that the other attendees at the reception saw, when they tentatively began to lift their heads to see what was going on. Harry and Albus were kneeling over the prone body of Harry's bondmate, checking on him and tending to him, clearly both very upset. The Minister was speaking to the portrait, to summon help for Severus. There were no curses filling the air. Perhaps the attack was over. Slowly, people started to lift themselves off the floor.

There were only two members of the Magical Law Enforcement Department actually in attendance at the reception –Darmut as Head of the Department was present as a Ministry official, and Stark as an on-duty Auror. In the immediate aftermath of the attack, their first priority was the security of the room. They had to render the known attacker unable to do further harm, and then assure that any accomplices or additional attackers not yet visible to them were neutralized.

As a consequence of their Auror training and duties, they were the only other two people in the room who never cowered or tried to hide when Harry yelled and the distinctive green light of the Killing Curse appeared. However, their attention was directed away from Harry, Albus and Severus, and at the attacker. Stark was the closest to the attacker, so he moved immediately in that direction, while Darmut did what he could to assess if there were other threats or points from which attacks may still come, turning rapidly, looking for any furtive movements or attempts to get into or out of the reception room.

Stark ran to the attacker where he lay crumpled on the floor beneath a bloody trail down the wall that illustrated just how high up he'd been thrown by Harry's blast of wandless magic. The man looked vaguely familiar, although his features seemed to be undergoing some sort of shift. Possibly a spell to alter his appearance? This wasn't the time to evaluate that. Whoever he was, he wasn't moving, and was staring with unseeing eyes straight ahead. However, Auror training reinforced the fact that there were many ways for witches and wizards to very convincingly fake the appearance of death, so Stark retrieved the attacker's wand as evidence, and quickly cast a spell to bind the man in unbreakable chains. He was fairly sure that the chains weren't necessary, given the blood that was pouring from injuries on the back of the would-be assassin's head, but it never hurt to be sure.

Darmut moved cautiously through the room, checking behind furniture and curtains lest anyone have hid there, but he quickly determined that there appeared to be just the one attacker; the only other people in the room were known to him as ones invited by the Minister, and no one was trying to get in or out of the room who did not belong.

Darmut and Stark quickly commenced efforts to calm the guests and identify potential witnesses who might know anything about the attacker. They helped people stand and brush themselves off, and got them paired up with their friends and family to reassure everyone that they were well. Stark was particularly concerned about Molly Weasley, who seemed wobbly as her husband helped her up. A chair was conjured for her, and she was instructed to wait for a mediwizard or mediwitch to check her over before she tried to stand up again.

It was not more than two minutes after the attack that several mediwizards from the Ministry's own infirmary arrived, and two immediately began to work on Severus. Albus spoke quietly with one of them, sharing what he had observed, pointing out the shattered marble tiles on the wall as part of the discussion of how the spell glanced off of Severus. The one who was kneeling next to Severus was busily waving his wand to conduct scans and gently touching Severus to assess the damage done to him. Harry was willing to raise his head from Severus' chest, but kept a protective hand pressed to his chest, to keep Severus' still chaotic magic safe.

Finally, the one who had been kneeling stood to confer with his colleague who had been speaking to Albus. He tried to help Harry stand with him, but Harry became agitated at the suggestion that he stand. Gently, Albus turned the mediwizards away from Harry. "I will handle this. Harry is focused on Severus. What have you determined?" he asked.

The senior mediwizard looked first at his colleague who had been speaking to Albus, who proceeded to offer his report. "Unconfirmed at this point, but believed to have been the Killing Curse, thrown from about 10 meters. A pulse of magic from Lord Potter disrupted its trajectory, and it glanced off Lord Snape. Might have hit his Order of Merlin, but it did eventually hit the wall behind him – several marble tiles will need to be replaced. Professor Dumbledore reports that Lord Snape collapsed immediately from the glancing hit, and that he determined that his heart and respiration have been steady since seconds after the attack, as soon as he could check on him."

The senior mediwizard absorbed those facts and nodded. "Consistent with the findings of my exam. Some surface burning of the flesh on the chest, possibly where the medal rested, otherwise no injuries, but his magic – well, that's another story. There is something wrong there. We need to get Lord Snape to the Infirmary, and run some more detailed scans to be sure what's happened. We can move him as soon as you wish."

Harry resumed his near-fetal position over Severus, his head again resting gently on Severus chest, eyes closed, as if the heartbeat he was listening for was all that was keeping his own heart beating as well. Albus crouched down to give Harry a reassuring pat on the back, but had to concede – that was really for himself. Harry was unaware of anything at that point except for the beat of Severus' heart.

Standing again and addressing the senior mediwizard, Albus spoke as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. "If there will be no harm to Severus, let's delay for a bit, and we have a bit more privacy as we move him." His suggestion was greeted with nods all around, and the senior mediwizard knelt down again next to Severus to continue to monitor his condition. His colleague joined others circulating among the guests to be sure that all were unharmed.

Darmut and Stark had not yet allowed anyone to leave the reception room, as they and other Aurors who ran into the reception room to assist, began to interview all in the room to determine if they had exchanged any conversation with the attacker. Perhaps he had said something to someone that might help them to learn something about him. When Stark mentioned the possibility that the attacker had used a spell to alter his appearance, several Ministry officials volunteered that they thought they had spoken to the new fellow from the Department of International Magical Cooperation, but having met him once or twice before, he seemed really "off" today, not remembering them or when they'd met, or what they'd discussed.

Those who snuck a peek at the assassin reported that they'd seen no one who looked like that circulating during the presentation or reception. Actually, when Stark looked again, he was pretty sure that the face was different from when he'd confiscated the wand and applied the unbreakable chain. He had a bad feeling about this.

Stark finally saw the forensic mediwizard arrive and escorted him to the body. The mediwizard had extensive experience in determining how a witch or wizard died, how magic played a role in any death, and often provided suggestions that had been very helpful to Stark and his team of Aurors in solving cases. He cast his spells, and the last vestiges of the spell that had altered the assassin's appearance fell away. It was no one Stark knew, certainly not anyone who had been circulating during the ceremony.

The mediwizard needed almost no time to confirm death by blunt force trauma to the back of the head, most likely from contact with the marble wall that still bore traces of his blood. There was something else here, though. The mediwizard crouched low over the body, inspecting the face, and finally opening the mouth. A soft "Accio, poison!" was uttered, and to Stark's astonishment, as very small glass vial, still intact, flew out of the dead man's mouth and into the mediwizard's outstretched hand.

"I got a reading for poison in him, but not as the reason for death. It appears that your gate-crasher wasn't going to be taken alive, Stark," he offered has he turned the vial over to the Auror. "My readings would suggest that little vial contains snake venom – maybe Basilisk? One bite to break that vial, and this fellow is dead instantly. He had no intention of being interrogated, that's for sure. I'm surprised the force that propelled him against the wall didn't cause him to bite down on it then, but you got lucky."

As word had got out that there had been an attack on a dignitary at the Minister's reception, panic quickly spread through the Ministry. Rumors sprang up almost instantly that the victim had been Harry Potter, or the Minister of Magic herself, or any number of others, including many not even in the building at the time. Some rumors said the victim had died, others that he or she escaped totally unscathed. The witches and wizards (and assorted Goblins, ghosts, and others) who worked in the building had already begun congregating in small groups in all the corridors and public spaces, looking worried.

The Auror offices were not immune from the panic, and in that panic, some of the basic security measures fell by the wayside. There were always to be three Aurors on guard in the holding cell area, where witches and wizards being held by the Ministry were kept imprisoned while awaiting trials. In the wake of hearing of the attack, all three momentarily joined the fray in the halls; it was not until one of the supervisors noticed that the entire security detail from the holding cells was part of a group trying to clear the halls that they were sent back to their primary duty.

It was too late. At least one of the prisoners, the former Minister of Magic, spotted an opportunity and using his knowledge of Ministry security weaknesses, took advantage of the guards' departure to escape. He recalled from a briefing he'd gotten from Darmut a month or so before he was wrongfully removed from his elected position and arrested that there was a deteriorating ward in this part of the Ministry. He would wager that the usurper of his position had either not gotten that briefing yet, or had not gotten around to addressing a small detail like this. Sure enough, with some persistent experimentation, he found the spot where he could just stroll out of the holding cell. He took one of the Aurors' spare robes from a peg behind the door, and pulling it up close to his face, entered the hall.

In the panic, no one noticed the rather small, stooped man in the nondescript robe who seemed to be part of the excited crowd. He was actually very carefully backing out of the Ministry, working his way away from the chaos and toward the floos in the Ministry entry hall. He had to leave his wand behind – he wasn't sure where it had been placed when he was arrested, but that was the least of it. He'd get another as soon as he was free.

It took no more than fifteen minutes for Cornelius Fudge to make his way to an open floo. With a whoosh of green fire, he was gone. It was another fifteen minutes before anyone noticed that he'd escaped.

In the reception room, Molly was already feeling better by the time a mediwitch came over to scan her, and she agreed that Molly was doing just fine. Still very concerned, Arthur tried to persuade Molly to remain seated.

"Now, Molly, dearest, that was a nasty scare, and a fast trip down to the floor. Give it a minute to be sure that you and the little one are fine before you try to get up," he cajoled.

"Arthur, please, I've been pregnant six times before this; I know what's right and what isn't. I'm fine. Harry looks a mess over there, and I think he needs some comfort. I am going over there. Yes, he has Albus, and Sirius and Remus with him but that's not the same."

Arthur had to concede that when Molly's motherly feelings were activated, there really was no stopping her. He finally helped her stand and waddle over to where Harry was still kneeling on the floor over Severus, under the watchful eye of Albus, Remus and a mediwizard. She transfigured a small stool for herself next to Severus and opposite Harry and Sirius, and Arthur help her get seated. From her perch, she could stroke Harry's hair and keep an eye on both Harry and Severus. Harry seemed comforted by her touch.

Sirius and Remus had initially assisted Darmut and Stark in securing the room, once they heard Albus say that Severus was alive. Remus spoke to Darmut as he joined him in checking the room, and offered to transform into Moony if he thought his senses or strength as a werewolf might be useful.

"Thank you, Mr. Lupin, a most generous offer. But I think we can secure this room without it. I fear that if someone sees a werewolf, we'll have other problems and more panic, any possibly even spells directed toward you."

When the room was deemed secure, Sirius and Remus went immediately to Harry's side. Albus patted them each on the arm in thanks. Sirius knelt down next to Harry right away, and put a reassuring arm around his shoulders, while Remus remained standing, and bent his head down to quietly ask Albus "How bad does it look, Professor? Is he going to be alright?"

Albus looked old and tired as he answered. "Which one are you speaking of, Remus? Severus' magic is fractured and scattered. Harry completely lost control there for a minute. He's calmed down now, but . . . " Albus dropped it at that, as he did not want to share any information about Harry where others might overhear. He did not want Harry to be feared, as was possible if others had seen how his magic raged uncontrolled. Remus understood what had been left unsaid, and he, too, now looked worried.

Across the reception room, Lucius and Draco had been tending to a very shaken-up Narcissa. A mediwizard had given her a quick scan, and moved right along, pronouncing her panicked but unharmed. Lucius summoned his personal house elf, and asked that a snifter of his finest brandy be brought to Narcissa.

"A sip or two of brandy should bring the color back to your face, my dear," he soothed, as Draco held his mother's hand and patted it absently.

Draco had never seen this sort of mayhem up close like this indoors, and he realized that he did not enjoy it at all. Curses were fine in open spaces, he supposed, but the power of a Killing Curse in such a confined space was frightening. He felt the power surge through the room, hot and raw. Even a spell being directed at another seemed to spill its negative energy on all in the room. He really wanted to leave, the sooner the better. It was hard to tell who was more relieved when the house elf appeared to offer Narcissa her brandy – the now less pale mother or her nervous son.

Order was largely restored in the Ministry building within a half hour of the attack. Assurances that neither the Minister nor Harry Potter were harmed in any way in the attack were broadcast throughout the building, which immediately reduced the level of agitation. Gradually, the Department Heads who had been at the reception reappeared in their Departments, and they assured all that this appeared to be an isolated assassination attempt on one of the attendees (they had been given strict orders not to provide the name of the attendee), and an unsuccessful one at that. Work was back underway within an hour.

Except, of course, in the holding cell area of the Aurors' offices. When the three Aurors assigned to guard that area returned to their posts, three of the ten occupied holding cells were now empty. After observing Fudge probing the wards and finding a weak spot, two others attempted the same and had success. It took the Aurors several more very frantic minutes after their return to verify exactly who was no longer in the cells, and by the time the Minister was informed and the building put into lock-down, all three had succeeded in reaching the floos.

Darmut and Stark were immediately drawn into the drama of the escaped prisoners, and for a moment the possible identify of the assassin was put on hold. First, they had the unenviable task of reporting the escape to Minister Bones. Their only hope of not being summarily dismissed from their jobs was the fact that she herself had been an Auror years ago, and might not have the same militaristic view of the organization as many did who had never served. Aurors always had a certain level of discretion in the way they handled matters, making it harsher for their superiors to be accountable for junior Aurors' bad calls. Fudge never cared; he always wanted scapegoats when something went wrong, and several senior Department officials in this and other Departments lost long-held positions when an underling did something wrong. The two hoped for the best, given the current Minister's background. Abandoning their posts guarding some prisoners in supposedly well-warded holding cells when a potentially devastating threat lurked in the corridors might not even mean the end of the three guards' careers, if Minister Bones recalled her own days as a dark-wizard catcher.

Fortunately, Minister Bones did remember what it was like to be an Auror, and Darmut did not even have to remind her that he'd briefed her in her first week on the job about some weak wards in that part of the building. She had made the decision that the wards were not a priority at this time, and was feeling a certain culpability herself. If the wards had all been repaired, the fact that the three Aurors left their posts to provide security in the corridors would not have been a problem. Those wards should have kept everyone in the cells, guards or no. Darmut and Stark were breathing much easier when they left her office – they hadn't been dismissed. Yes, they still had to deal with escaped prisoners, but not with the summary dismissal of three Aurors as well.

About an hour after the attack, the Ministry building was finally calm enough that the mediwizard who had taken responsibility for Severus' care suggested that it was time now to get him to the Ministry Infirmary. The Weasleys had finally departed, so Molly could return to Hogwarts for some rest.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Albus, when I get to Hogwarts?" Molly had inquired as her husband help her stand.

He was initially going to decline her offer but thought better of that at the last second. "Actually, Molly, it might be a good idea to ask Madam Pomfrey to step through. She's the one most familiar with the medical histories of both Severus and Harry, so I think she could be of great help to us. If you don't mind."

Glad to have some way to contribute, Molly patted Harry's head one final time and left with her husband, leaving Albus, Sirius and Remus to watch over Harry and Severus. Harry stirred when Albus squeezed his arm. "Harry, we'd like to move Severus now to the Infirmary for a closer look at him, and his magic."

"Thank you, sir. I think he's doing much better, anyway. His magic has been collecting itself over the last half-hour, at least. It almost feels just like it always does. I've been keeping it held together while it gathers the split apart bits and brings them all together."

Albus' jaw dropped in amazement at that statement, as did Remus'. Sirius did a double-take, his features revealing a battle between a feeling of relief and an intense desire to direct an Avada Kedavra at Severus himself.

The ability to touch each other's magic was one of the more classic signs of a matured bond.

While each desperately wanted to ask the question, no one had quite the nerve to ask such a personal question so bluntly and in such a public setting. Naturally, Albus recovered his speech faster, and gently directed a first question to Harry.

"You can touchl Severus' magic, Harry?" he asked first, rubbing his long beard with his hands in nervousness.

Harry suddenly remembered a conversation he'd had a while ago with Hermione: he should not have admitted to being able to touch another's magic. He wasn't entirely sure why, but the Headmaster's reaction suggested that once again, Hermione knew just what she was talking about. However, at this moment, it might matter to Severus' care or recovery, so he wasn't going to be shy.

"I suspect that I can touch pretty much anybody's magic, sir. I noticed this some time ago. I mentioned it once to Hermione, and she looked about as horrified as you all do now, and suggested this was not something I should go around sharing. But it might help Severus' treatment for you" as he gestured to the mediwizard watching this conversation with great interest, "to know what's been going on with his magic, so I want to tell you. Sorry if I shouldn't mention it. It felt like his magic was blown apart, with bits floating free. I've gathered some together, and gradually, the bits started forming back into his magic like it was before. I think they are becoming a solid block of magic; I haven't released it since I got to him, just in case."

Albus looked at the mediwizard and with a nod and a wave of his hand, gestured for the young man to conduct a scan to verify this recovery and address Harry's fear that Severus' magic would fly apart if he released his hold. The mediwizard took his wand from the sleeve of his tunic and cast several diagnostic spells over Severus. He looked up with a bit of surprise clear on his features; whatever the result, it likely was not what he'd been expecting.

"Yes, indeed, sirs. Lord Snape's magic is definitely more cohesive than it was 30 minutes ago when we did the last scan. It appears normal, or at least within the range of normal. I never scanned his magic before, so I don't have a baseline for him. This is a totally appropriate reading for many wizards, as it is right now. As I understand he's a particularly powerful wizard, I imagine that there might be a bit more magic that needs to get assembled back, but I see no cause for concern that Lord Potter would do him any harm by releasing his magic. If you'd like, sir, why don't you release it as I'm scanning? If I see anything that should cause concern, you can quickly take hold again."

Harry watched anxiously as the mediwizard recast his spell and he waited for a curt nod directed his way. He slowly began to withdraw his magic from Severus', gingerly backing away from the beloved signature, hoping against hope that his retreat did not set back the great recovery that had been going on. He held his breath as he watched the face of the mediwizard to get the earliest possible indication that he needed to get back into Severus and take hold of his magic again.

After mere seconds, but a time that felt like an eternity to Harry, the mediwizard smiled and nodded at Harry. "He's doing just fine, Lord Potter. No change at all in Lord Snape's magic there. Still quite powerful, but that will help his own magic to repair itself, almost like gravity, pulling any stray parts back to the large body of magic. I'd still like to get him to the Infirmary, if you don't mind, for a more thorough check, just to be sure?"

Madam Pomfrey had just stepped through the floo in the Ministry Infirmary as Severus was levitated in by the mediwizard, followed closely by Harry, the Headmaster, and then Sirius and Remus. She was too choked up at the sight to say anything. She just reached out and squeezed Harry's shoulder slightly, earning a small smile.

Once again, Albus found his voice first. "Thank you, Poppy, for stepping in as quickly as you did. We all appreciate it. The immediate priority is Severus, of course, but Mr. Potter here gave us another most impressive display of wandless magic, and I want you to get him back to Hogwarts as soon as you can, to check him over carefully."

Madam Pomfrey caught the concern in the Headmaster's voice. He seemed every bit as concerned about Harry as he was about Severus, but was clearly not going to say anything in the presence of the Ministry staff. She wasn't entirely sure what was going on, although, really, Harry needed to stop doing wandless magic; at his young age, he was going to do permanent damage to himself if he kept this up! She understood though – the goal was to get Harry back to Hogwarts as quickly as possible. That was probably going to mean that she'd have to persuade the Ministry mediwizards to release Severus into her care.

"Mr. Eccles, isn't it?" she said to the mediwizard attending to Severus. "Come along and let's discuss Professor Snape's condition. I've been providing him with care for many years, and am quite familiar with his medical history. Perhaps we can get him sorted out and awake." Mr. Eccles, aware of the reputation of the Hogwarts medical facility and its no-nonsense resident mediwitch, nodded meekly and escorted her and the man who was now "their" patient into a private room.

In the immediate aftermath of the lock-down, with all the floos sealed, a search of the building was begun. The Ministry did have a protocol for this sort of situation; it was uncommon, but in the wake of a similar escape several decades ago, a spell was developed to facilitate a sweep of the entire building to determine if there were any magical beings who did not belong in the building, or who were present but not where they belonged. Using this spell, a team of twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Department could sweep the entire building in an hour. Darmut turned this effort over to Stark, agreeing that it was almost assuredly too late, but once it could be reported that the Ministry was secured, all would feel safer.

The team that Stark organized to conduct the magical sweep confirmed that everyone in the building either worked there or had signed in as a guest that day. The only unfortunate anomaly identified by the scan was the discovery that someone who had reported to work that morning was now dead, apparently by a Killing Curse administered hours ago. The body of the new head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation was found in his office. There was no sign of a struggle, and his assistant confirmed that he'd welcomed a guest, a gentleman she'd not seen before who apparently represented some business interests abroad. The records at the Ministry reception desk did confirm that a Mr. John Smith had arrived to meet with the Department head, but in the mayhem of the afternoon, no one had been checking departures. Mr. Smith's current whereabouts were unknown.

With a sad nod, Stark thought he probably did know where Mr. Smith was, but it was more likely he knew the whereabouts of Mr. Smith's remains.

Harry was persuaded to stay with Albus, Remus and Sirius while Madam Pomfrey and Mr. Eccles did a full work-up on Severus. "Come on, Harry, you'll be in the way as they work, and the sooner they finish, the sooner we can all get you back to Hogwarts, right?" Sirius had cajoled, as he gently ruffled Harry's still-wild hair. "There are some seats over here – we can see right away if anyone comes out for you."

Remus asked Albus "Have you heard anything about who might have done this? I saw the Aurors getting to work in the reception room but haven't heard anything more."

Albus shook his head, his grey hair and long beard swaying softly as he did so. "No, nothing definitive. The assassin had used a spell to change his appearance, so the Aurors will have to determine who he impersonated, and then see if we can find out anything about who he was or what this all meant."

Harry listened with some interest. A thought occurred to him, and he posed a question to the Headmaster. "Sir, remember that intention spell that you cast back when Mrs. Longbottom was running her program, the one that protected people in the castle when we had all the foreign guests arriving? If the assassin was working for someone, is there a chance that the casting of the spell here killed the person who sent him?"

Albus thought on that for a second. "I would be surprised if a spell of that sort lasted this long, but I'll mention it to the Minister. I'd not thought of that before, but it might have some impact here," he agreed.

It was mere moments later that Madam Pomfrey appeared in the doorway and immediately approached them. She looked annoyed and triumphant at the same time; an interesting combination but one she did well.

"Severus is fine. His magic is healing well; he's as strong as most wizards right now, and probably in an hour or two, the rest of his magic will knit itself back together. I sense a slight shift in his magical signature, but Mr. Eccles said that Harry had been holding his magic together?" She looked at Harry with a carefully neutral expression on her face, needing his honest answer with no editing to avoid offending anyone's sensibilities. When he nodded, she continued. "It is possible that Severus' magical signature will be altered a bit from this experience, but it's very minor and as I said, he seems to be going fine."

She straightened up a bit, now looking more annoyed than anything. "The matter of Severus' loss of consciousness was of great concern. An attack powerful enough to blast one's magic apart is of course likely to render them unconscious, but it was greatly troubling that he's remained unconscious for this length of time. It appears that Severus struck his head when he fell, and was rendered unconscious in the fall. His body was directing all its healing energy toward his magic, not to the much less serious head injury, so he remained unconscious. Now that his minor head injury has been detected," and her emphasis on the word 'detected' told everyone that she took great offense that it had not been detected until she presumably just did so, "and repaired, he is awake and doing much better."

Harry's face lit with a most remarkable smile, hearing that Severus was awake. "Thank you, Poppy! Can I see him?" he breathed, now practically bursting with relief.

"Give them a couple of minutes," she suggested, smiling herself in response to the young man's obvious relief and delight. "The mediwizards were still running their standard scans, and he was giving them a very difficult time. Allow him his privacy, and as soon as they are done with him, you can visit. I'll take you back."

Turning more primly to the others, she continued. "I've made arrangements to remove Professor Snape to the Hogwarts Infirmary as soon as a medical-grade portkey can be prepared. I'll go with him via the portkey, but Harry will have to return via floo. Will any of you be returning with us?"

Albus looked at Sirius and Remus. "I think not. I need a few words with Amelia before I return. I won't be long, but don't delay getting Severus and Harry back there, just to wait for me. I assume that you two will stay in London?"

Sirius seemed torn. More than anything, he wanted to be there for his godson, to take care of him, and keep him safe. A squeeze to his forearm by Remus reminded him that this was not about what he wanted. He realized that his godson now had a shockingly strong, possibly intimate, relationship with his bondmate, and he needed to give Harry the room to nurture that relationship, as much as he'd really prefer to go back to Hogwarts with them. Sharing a quick look, Sirius and Remus shook their heads in unison.

Sirius opened his arms to give Harry a big hug, and was thrilled that Harry accepted the gesture so happily and easily. "You take care of yourself, Harry, and take care of Severus, too. We need to stay here to make sure this mess gets sorted out," he said softly as he gave him a final squeeze.

Remus gave Harry a hug as well, as the two finally headed back to their own offices on another level in the building.

Madam Pomfrey nodded at Albus. "Come along, Harry. I'm sure Severus has been exhaustively scanned and prodded and poked, and is quite ready to leave. Perhaps you'll be able to calm him down until the portkey is ready." She led the way for Harry through the double-hung doors.

Albus took a deep breath. He trusted Poppy, and knew that she was as fiercely protective of her students as he was. She'd get Harry to the Infirmary back at Hogwarts and keep him safe with Severus until he could return and brief her more fully on what had occurred with Harry's magic.

For now, he needed a word with the Minister of Magic.

He arrived at his old friend's office and was waved right on through by her assistant. Minister Bones looked up sharply at the intrusion, but smiled when she saw who had arrived.

"Albus – how is Severus? And Harry?" she instantly demanded.

That was what Albus liked about Amelia. She had priorities similar to his own.

"They are both doing fine. Poppy Pomfrey stepped in from Hogwarts, and last I heard, Severus has regained consciousness and his magic is nearly all back together. A most fortunate outcome. A medical portkey is being readied as we speak, and Poppy will transport Severus to the Hogwarts Infirmary to complete his recovery."

"And young Mr. Potter?" the Minister prompted. "That was the second blast of wandless magic from him that I've heard about. It can't be good for the boy."

Albus thought quickly. The Minister was approaching this subject from the safest angle – it was potentially damaging for a wizard to be doing wandless magic until he or she was at least thirty, or even forty, to give their magic and their bodies sufficient time to develop strong pathways. Nothing she said suggested any awareness of what had him so concerned: Harry's lack of control of these extremely powerful bursts of magic, and the wildness his magic now retained for some time after the burst, as Albus had witnessed this afternoon.

He answered mildly, "That was the reason I wanted Poppy to get involved. She is aware of what's gone on before, and has the most extensive records of his magical development. He trusts her explicitly, so if anyone can assess if he's created a problem for himself or is at risk of doing so, it will be her."

That satisfied Amelia.

Albus proceeded with the real reason for his visit. "Young Harry mentioned something to me that you might want to know about." Albus nearly chuckled when he saw how acutely attentive Amelia had become when he mentioned Harry's name. "When we hosted Mrs. Longbottom's program for international invitees, there was some concern about one of the delegates – a wizard from France. Hogwarts has powerful wards and all staff members are extremely vigilant. However, I cast an intention spell as an added protection. If any action was taken against anyone at Hogwarts, the fate intended for them would befall anyone at whose behest that action was taken. I never actually lifted that spell. It's been quite a while now, so I think it rather likely that the spell has dissipated and it might not work at all when an action is taken against a Hogwarts' resident outside of Hogwarts."

Amelia looked at Albus thoughtfully. She knew, of course, of the incident involving Henri Clovis. The Ministry and its Aurors were very involved in the discussions with their French counterparts in determining Mr. Clovis' fate. She also recalled that at about the same time that Mr. Clovis tried to kill the group at Hogwarts, French king Louis XXIII had died. Were the two events connected? It had never even occurred to her to wonder. She thought that the French mediwizards had never been able to determine the cause of their king's death. It had seemed like a poisoning, but no evidence of poison had ever been found. Did Albus cause the French king's death, with that spell?

"I have never heard of an intention spell, Albus. Did you create it?" she asked, as her mind reeled with the implications of what he'd just said.

"No, no, it's an ancient spell, just seldom used. I learned a basic intention spell as a young man. I have worked on some refinements, but it's still not something you use often. I suppose, if the spell is still in place, and if this was an attempted assassination at the behest of a grandee somewhere in the wizarding world, news of his or her passing might reach your ears. It might help unravel some elements of what occurred today."

Before the Minister could react to that, another knock on her door announced the arrival of Auror Stark, to make his report. The Minister signaled that he was to do so with Albus in the room. He launched right into his report.

"Well, ma'am, sir, we know that the assassin entered earlier today as a Mr. John Smith, with an appointment made yesterday evening to speak to Fillmore Uggers, the new head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. The purpose of the appointment was very vague in the ledger. Uggers' assistant verified that the guest arrived. She did not see him leave, but she did see Uggers hurry off to the ceremony later."

The Minister seemed fine with what he was doing, so he soldiered on. "It is most likely that Smith killed Uggers, probably with a Killing Curse, although the forensic mediwizard is still verifying the cause of death. Smith used a spell to alter his own appearance; most people who saw him at the reception assumed he was Uggers, the new man. The assassin's appearance changed rapidly after he died, presumably as his spell dissipated. He also had a small vial of a poison of some sort in his mouth. He didn't have time to break it when he was thrown against the wall in the reception hall – the mediwizard found it unbroken in his mouth. We have some work still to do to determine Smith's true identity, although we are working under the assumption that he was an agent rather than someone operating for his own advancement. The poison in his mouth – that's almost assuredly something only a hired assassin would use."

Albus was curious about one thing. "How did you come to find Uggers' body? You connected his visitor to the event in the reception room very quickly," he observed.

"We found Uggers' body when we ran the scans for the escaped prisoners, sir. We used that spell – you might have had a hand in developing it, if I recall the story – that enables us to determine if anyone who doesn't work here or is here as an invited guest is in the building?" Albus knew the spell indeed. He didn't develop it, but had installed the ward, similar to the one at Hogwarts, that identified the magical beings in the building. He had suggested to the head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department at the time that he put together a spell to use that ward in the event of a break-in or other event when it was necessary to see who was here who did not belong. The spell presumably linked the ward with the employee and guest registers in some way. But this was not relevant to anything important right now.

"Who escaped?" was the important question. This was the first Albus had heard about any escapes.

A quick look at the Minister confirmed to a relieved Stark that he was not in trouble for mentioning that, although it certainly seemed that she had not yet shared that information with Professor Dumbledore.

"In the aftermath of the attack, it appeared that three prisoners held in the cell block here in the Ministry escaped. Cornelius Fudge, Sean Albemarle, and Horace Mugwhimple. The Aurors momentarily stepped into the hall to quell the panic out there, and they were able to escape."

Albus swore an oath under his breath. He'd heard about a damaged ward months ago, but Fudge wasn't willing to pay to have it fixed. If it was in the cell block area, there were (supposedly) always at least three Aurors present, so what was the problem with a slightly damaged ward?

What else could possibly go wrong?

Another knock sounded on the Minister's door, and her assistant poked her head into the room. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Madam Minister, but I thought you'd want to be alerted right away. We just got word that Rakshasha Bahadur Shah VIII of India and his son have died very suddenly. No causes of death have been determined."

Stark was confused at the reaction of his Ministry's leader to that sad, but political news: She was glaring daggers at her guest, the Headmaster of Hogwarts.


	34. Ch 111 Wild Magic

Chapter 111 – Wild Magic

Albus glared right back at the Minister.

Stark did not know what to make of this exchange of glares. He sensed that this was not something that concerned him, so with a small cough, he offered "Well, I'd best be back to my duties." With a slight bow to each, he added "Minister, Headmaster," and he followed the assistant out of the office.

"Amelia, no spell of mine harmed anyone. If we assume that King Louis and the Rakshasha Shah and his son met their ends because of magic, it is entirely their own doing. My intention spell merely reflects back what had been intended _by them_ in the use of an intermediary. Henri Clovis tried to kill Severus Snape by giving him a gift of poisoned wine; actually, when Severus said he would share the wine with all the adults at Mrs. Longbottom's class, there would have been at least two dozen deaths directly attributable to that poison, including my own. If we attribute Louis' untimely death to other than an unfortunate coincidence, it would follow that Henri was acting on Louis' instructions."

The old witch was still glaring, but Albus thought that some of the fire had gone out of her eyes. She was savvy enough to understand that these attacks on Severus had implications beyond just someone trying to kill the one man.

Albus continued. "All we know right now is that Shah and his son have died, which might have nothing at all to do with anything that just happened here in the Ministry. However, again, if we suspect that their passing at this particular time is not just a very unfortunate coincidence, this "Mr. Smith" somehow breached the security of the British Ministry of Magic, killed one of your Department Heads, and sent a Killing Curse through a crowded reception room where it might have easily killed any number of people, including you, Madam Minister – at their direction! How can you have any sympathy for them?"

Amelia drew a shaky breath. "But, Albus, the political implications of any British wizard having any connection to the deaths of sitting monarchs!"

"Nonsense," Albus insisted, now annoyed himself. "Again, assuming my intention spell had anything to do with either case, no British wizard's spell harmed those people. The harm came only from their own instructions to their intermediaries, to kill a British wizard, on British soil! They were killed when the spell directed back to them what they had intended to befall a British wizard. They are entirely and exclusively responsible for what happened to them."

Albus was starting to lose his patience that Amelia was not immediately embracing the sense of outrage he would have expected from the British Minister of Magic over these events. She was action-oriented, so it might help to give her some next steps to consider. "On balance, I would definitely rather that no one try to kill Severus. Far beyond my spell, you've seen what Harry thinks of attempts on Severus' life; all this wandless magic isn't good for the boy. If you think any of those who seek Severus' death for their own ends would be dissuaded from that by knowing that sending agents to assassinate Severus would lead to their own deaths, by all means, let's get the word out. The message must, of course, be carefully worded; we don't, after all, have any definitive proof that the intention spell was involved in any way with what happened to Louis or the Shahs and I would not want to damage international relations by suggesting that either was involved in such a plot against anyone."

Albus could tell that Amelia was now coming around to seeing this, if not from his exact perspective, at least from a political perspective. The glare was gone, and a thoughtful, calculating look replaced it.

"I do see your point, Albus," she began to ponder aloud. "Attacks on British wizards, on British soil – yes, definitely, who could argue? I will, of course, have to attend whatever memorial services are arranged in India for the Shahs, as I did for Louis. My speaking about this spell myself – that's going to be too suggestive. Isn't Augusta Longbottom still writing articles for the Daily Prophet? Might we be able to plant a question about the use of protective spells, and have her drop in some information about intention spells as a class?"

Albus smiled, glad that his old ally had come around. "She is, indeed. Excellent idea! Actually, most of those articles are written by Hermione Granger, Mr. Potter's good friend." Given Amelia's amusing habit of perking up so when Harry's name was dropped, why not give Hermione a boost in the woman's eyes by connecting her to Harry? It was true, anyway. "I'll ask Miss Granger to frame a question broadly enough to cover a few different types of protective spells. Not right away, but we can eventually let slip that I placed such a spell on certain people at Hogwarts."

The Minister seemed satisfied with that. "A shame about the Shahs. Quite a tragedy, I'm sure. I'll certainly be relieved if we have fewer attempts on Lord Snape's life, and I have fewer memorial services to attend."

X X X X X X X X X X

Severus was in a complete state of agitation when Harry finally got to him in the Ministry's infirmary. It seemed to Harry that he might have tried to hex one of the mediwizards, if his wand was handy. He was glaring, harrumphing, and generally being as uncooperative as possible. It finally occurred to Harry that appealing to his bondmate's intense desire to get out of the infirmary might be just the thing to get him to calm down and be a bit less argumentative.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed on which Severus had been placed, and tentatively took his hand in his own as he whispered conspiratorially. "Severus, the Headmaster asked Madam Pomfrey to get you and me back to Hogwarts as soon as possible. They are making a portkey right now, and she'll be taking you out of here as soon as it's ready."

That did not have quite the impact Harry was hoping for.

"I don't need a portkey. I am quite capable of using the floo network," was the testy reply. Madam Pomfrey was standing nearby and overheard the statement, delivered as it was in a voice much louder than a whisper.

"Your magic was nearly blown apart, Severus, so there is no way we are going to let you travel on anything but a medical-grade portkey. It will be here momentarily." The tone of the mediwitch's voice made it clear that her statement ended that discussion.

She stepped closer, and bent down a bit to inspect his face a bit more carefully. "How is your head feeling? You had a nasty blow to the head when you fell – sometimes, even after we repair the bone and heal any bruising, an injury like that can still cause a lingering pain. Do you need a pain potion? It might help calm you a bit, as well."

He continued to look very aggrieved, but both Madam Pomfrey and Harry noticed that Severus did not actually decline the offer. She reached into a pocket in the folds of her robe and extracted a small vial. After verifying that it was the desired pain potion, one of Severus' own, in fact, she handed it over. Severus offered a nod of thanks and when he had also verified that it was a pain potion that he himself had brewed, he uncapped the vial and drank it down. He relaxed down into a pillow, his face still pale amid the mussed black hair. Harry realized that Severus must have been in some discomfort from the easing of the tension from his face.

Harry just sat and held Severus' hand lightly in his own, probably more for his own reassurance than anything, if he thought about what he was doing. Finally, a harried-looking mediwizard, presumably the one who missed diagnosing Severus' fractured skull, appeared with an official-looking parchment. He offered it to Madam Pomfrey, who accepted it in frosty silence and read it over to be sure it was in order.

"Thank you, Mr. Eccles, this will be fine," she said as she looked over the parchment and dismissed its bearer with a distracted wave of her hand. Turning to the two wizards on the bed, she went on. "I will accompany Professor Snape with the portkey, and Mr. Potter, you will take the floo. I assume that you can return to the Headmaster's office directly from here?" she asked Harry.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm awful with portkeys, anyway. The floo in Remus' offices is linked to the Headmaster's office, so I'll be fine."

Madam Pomfrey wasn't finished with Harry, though. "And when you get back to Hogwarts, I want you to come to the Infirmary straight away, young man. I heard about yet another demonstration of wandless magic from you today! At your age! This is becoming far too regular an occurrence, and we need to check you over to be sure that you haven't already started to damage yourself."

Mr. Eccles sidled out the door, feeling somewhat better about the dressing-down he'd gotten from Madam Pomfrey. If she spoke to the king of the wizarding world like that, the scolding he'd gotten from her was infinitely easier to bear.

Before she activated the portkey that had been charmed into the parchment, Madam Pomfrey assured herself that an Auror would escort Harry to Remus' office, because, as she explained it, "With all the hooligans about today, I want to be sure he gets back to Hogwarts in one piece." A junior Auror was quite willing to provide the escort, so Madam Pomfrey activated the portkey and accompanied her patient back to Hogwarts.

Harry arrived in the Headmaster's office just a short while after Albus himself had returned, just as Albus appeared to be stirring a memory into his Pensieve.

"Sorry to interrupt, sir," Harry offered as he stumbled out of the floo and tripped over the carpet. "Madam Pomfrey took Severus back to the Infirmary by portkey, and told me I am to get there myself as soon as I got back to Hogwarts." Harry hesitated for a moment, seeming to debate whether to pose a question. He finally took a breath and asked. "I I may ask, sir, how did your conversation with the Minister go? About the intention spell?"

Albus put his arm around Harry's shoulders and directed him to a chair near his desk. "We have a moment for a quick word, Harry; we'll take my floo to the Infirmary. I want to check up on Severus myself."

Once they were settled in their chairs and Harry had declined the offer of a lemon drop, Albus gave him a short version of his visit with the Minister. "She was not aware of the spell I'd cast here. It was clear that she had never seen any connection between the passing of Louis XXIII and the attempt to poison people here at Hogwarts. We, of course, have no proof connecting my spell to these events, so we need to tread carefully. We agreed that I will ask your Miss Granger to come up with a good question about protective spells for the column she is writing with Mrs. Longbottom, and work in some information about intention spells. At some future point, we'll find a way to mention that I'd used a spell like that to protect people at Hogwarts. Minister Bones was very concerned that we not create any kind of international incident or discord with any suggestion that a spell I used here brought about the death of any foreign rulers. We can't actually prove their involvement, in any case."

Harry caught the use of the plural immediately. "Has it happened again?"

Albus was impressed and a bit pleased that Harry made that connection as quickly as he did. With a small shrug, he replied, "We don't know. The Aurors are making some progress on the matter of today's would-be assassin – they know how he got into the Ministry, and into the reception. They don't yet know who he really is, or whether he was working as an agent for anyone. However, the Ministry of Magic did learn of the tragic passing today of the ruler of wizarding India and his son. No details at all are available as yet."

Harry was silent for a moment. His maudlin tally of the dead included many who had sided against him. He counted the deaths of many Death Eaters when he reflected on the people for whose deaths he felt responsible in some way. It occurred to him that he had not once considered Louis XXIII's death as one for which he may be responsible. He'd never even asked about whether anyone lost their life after the wandless spell he had cast at the Ministry when he found Severus and Sirius dueling. Nor had he ever even thought until this minute about the fate of the assassin today, let alone the possibility that there was a wizard or two behind the attack today who may now be dead as well. Did that make him a bad person? He felt a flicker of worry inside, but pushed it aside. Later, he'd ask Severus about this. He trusted Severus to be honest with him.

With a small sigh, Harry ended his reverie and focused again on the Headmaster, who seemed to understand in some way the internal conflict that Harry was feeling. He nodded in that sage, knowing way he had, as he pushed himself from his chair and walked over to the large fireplace, gesturing with his arm for Harry to join him.

"Come along, Harry, let us check in on Severus. If he is still in the mood he was back at the Ministry, I am sure Poppy will appreciate our intervention!"

Harry smiled as he refocused his thoughts on his bondmate, and he moved quickly. He was sure the Headmaster was right about Severus.

Down in the Infirmary, Severus was indeed giving Madam Pomfrey a very bad time.

Harry and Albus arrived to find the two squaring off over one of the Infirmary beds, Severus standing and seething on one side as the diminutive witch, arms folded across her ample bosom, stood her ground on the other. On the bed between them were two potion vials. While it was clear that Madam Pomfrey was trying to avoid disturbing others, her voice could be heard when they were still a dozen beds away from them.

"Severus Snape, there is no way I am releasing you! Your body and your magic have both undergone major traumas today, and it is essential that you allow them time to recover!"

Albus intervened before Severus could respond.

"Now, now, Severus, Poppy, let's continue this conversation in your office," he suggested, gesturing to Madam Pomfrey's small office, which was expanding as he spoke, with two additional chairs appearing around her desk. Severus and Madam Pomfrey exchanged glares that would have shamed Albus and Minister Bones' weak efforts earlier that afternoon, as Albus gently herded them and Harry into the privacy of the mediwitch's office, sweeping up the two potions vials as he passed the bed .

After getting everyone seated, Albus took over the conversation, losing the grandfatherly twinkle in his eye as he gave his staff stern looks.

"There is too much to do to allow time to be lost to silly bickering. Severus, I understand that you do not wish an extended stay in the Infirmary. We do desperately need you elsewhere, but you must be healthy. Poppy, given the events of the day, I am concerned about how people will react to Severus' disappearance from public view right now. I don't want rumors to start, as I'm sure you appreciate."

He put the two vials he had taken off the bed onto the desk in front of them.

"I recognize the pain potion, one you've brewed for me, Severus," he continued. "I cannot fathom your unwillingness to consume that. You do look a bit pinched, so I'm assuming there is some residual pain from your rather eventful day." Albus looked at Severus, clearly expecting some sort of response.

"I have no reluctance to consume a pain potion, of course" was the clipped response. "It is the other potion to which I object."

Albus checked the label on the offending vial. It was a sleeping draught, and as it bore the familiar scrawling script, marking it as one of Severus' own manufacture. Albus quirked his eyebrow at Severus, silently requesting an explanation.

"That is the most powerful sedative I brew, excepting of course the Draught of Living Death. I will be totally unconscious for at least a full day with the dose Madam Pomfrey proposes. I am feeling quite well enough now to continue what is left of my day. I have suggested that I consume a Dreamless Sleep potion before bed, so I will get a good, restorative sleep tonight, but I feel no need to render myself senseless for 24 hours."

As much as it pained him, Albus had to agree with Severus. If he was capable of putting up this much resistance, he was probably strong enough to recover with just sound sleep at night, not a potion-induced coma. He did not want to create a rift with his mediwitch, however.

"Poppy, I'm afraid that there are events about which I need to confer with Severus, that cannot wait a day. May I propose a compromise? Severus will take the pain potion now and follow the schedule for it that you recommend." Severus nodded as Albus expected; compliance with Madam Pomfrey's schedule for pain potion use would not be an issue for him.

"I will escort Severus now to my office, while you examine young Harry. He can join us in my office after you are through, and we'll go to dinner. After dinner, Harry will accompany Severus back to their rooms, and be sure that Severus takes a full dose of Dreamless Sleep and retires early enough to get a full ten hours of sleep tonight. If necessary, we can follow that regimen for the next several days, so Severus does get adequately rested and restored. If he experiences any problems at all, he will report immediately to you for treatment, which might then require his stay in the Infirmary."

There were nods all around at that. Harry was happy for the chance to take care of Severus, who was primarily focused on getting out of the Infirmary and quite willing to trade a commitment to submit to care if needed in the future in exchange for his freedom right now. Poppy realized all along that her chances of getting Severus to take the sleeping potion were slim, and getting the man to agree to a potion-assured ten hours of sleep tonight was a perfectly acceptable outcome.

Severus drank down the pain potion right there in Poppy's office and returned the empty vial to her, and stood to accompany the Headmaster to his office. Severus was about to head to the door for the walk through the castle, when Albus touched his sleeve. "The floo, please, Severus."

With a quirk of his eyebrow, Severus nodded and headed instead to the fireplace, and he and Albus disappeared in the green flames of the floo.

Madam Pomfrey hustled Harry off to one of the beds, got him comfortable, and proceeded to wave her wand over him, a process they'd both been through many times before. This time, though, the witch had a look of concern on her face for most of the time that she was with Harry. Something wasn't right, but it was difficult to pin down.

X X X X X X X X X X

Up in the Headmaster's office, Albus and Severus were seated in chairs near Albus' desk, with the Pensieve on the desk between them. Albus paused just a second to collect his thoughts, and consider the points he needed to make.

"Severus, we nearly had a catastrophe this afternoon with Harry."

The younger wizard looked at him in alarm, and choked out a question. "Was he in danger from the Killing Curse?"

"No, no, the Curse wasn't anywhere near him. He was in no danger from that. And while I am worried about these displays of wandless magic, we both know that there are potions available to address any damage to magical pathways in the body; Poppy will have that sorted out in no time. It was Harry's magic. After he sent that pulse of wandless magic, he was not in control of his magic – it was pulsing and traveling around the outside of his body, like lightening roaming across his skin. It was terrifying. I think if someone had touched him at all while he was in that state, they would have been killed. Fortunately, it lasted for just a few seconds and I believe that I am the only one who witnessed it. I was able to speak to him, get him focused on you and the fact that you needed him, and as he walked along and focused, he was finally able to assume control of himself."

Severus looked horrified, but not because of the scene that Albus had described. His mind went back to a conversation he'd had with Harry, shortly after they'd dealt with his synesthesia by extracting the memory of his encounter with the Elder Demon from Harry's mind. Harry had pled with Severus then: "You won't let me hurt anyone I love." Harry had feared going mad as he assumed Voldemort had from the constant images or afterimages of the horrors he confronted. Was it possible that he might become the destructive force he so feared from the simple loss of control of his magic? And what did he expect Severus to do about that?

Albus was still speaking. "I extracted my memory of what I saw this afternoon. It's in the Pensieve. I'd like you to look. I am hoping there is something we can do to help Harry exert the control he needs, whether through a potion or perhaps some special training. I have a few thoughts, but want your input, Severus."

Severus gulped visibly at the suggestion. Viewing memories in a Pensieve was not something he ever did willingly. He found the sensation of falling into the memory vertiginous and it usually left him nauseous, even before one factored in that the images one went to see were almost always disturbing in their own right.

However, this was for Harry.

He stood and leaned over the Pensieve, gently stirring the memory that glistened just below the surface, and allowing its magic to reach out to him and bring him down, down, down through the void into the scene itself. His mind landed roughly on the marble floor of the Ministry, where he stole a quick look at himself, lying pale and immobile. He saw Albus staring with horror and followed his line of sight.

Oh, Merlin!

Harry was, indeed, frightening. Put aside the wild hair – that wasn't unusual at all. It was the magic. It looked like a lightening bolt had come to reside inside Harry, and it was coursing, sparking, all over his body, even jumping in ragged beams between the young man's fingers. He'd never seen anything like that, and while he was horrified, he could not turn away. He heard Albus' voice, as did Harry, and he heard Albus trying to get Harry to focus on his voice, and walk slowly over to where he, Severus, lay unconscious on the floor. Harry started to move, slowly at first, but as it appeared that his mind asserted control, as he focused more on Albus' voice, his stride became more purposeful, and the sparking of the magic began to ebb.

Severus watched a very scared Headmaster extend his hand to Harry as he drew near. It had never occurred to Severus that Albus had physical bravery like that – the old man did not hesitate to reach out. Severus could see clearly in Harry's eyes the point that he took control of himself; the eyes changed, the magic sparking stopped, and Harry took Albus' hand firmly, and he approached Severus and knelt down next to him.

It was only then that there were any sounds of motion or of the others in the room, stirring finally to see what had happened. He saw the two Aurors moving away from them, one to the assassin and one to secure the room. Neither seemed to have looked at all at Harry, Severus or the Headmaster.

The memory ended and Severus was propelled back to himself, where he staggered somewhat and caught himself on the edge of the Headmaster's desk.

The look of horror and distress on Severus' face confirmed to Albus that he'd seen what Albus had seen. He guided Severus into a chair, and gave the man a minute to collect himself, producing a cup of mint tea that he suspected would be needed to calm Severus' stomach.

Finally, Severus felt that his hands had stopped shaking enough to enable him to take a sip of the tea, and begin the conversation he knew he needed to have with the Headmaster.

"I've never seen anything like that, Albus. Your thoughts?"

Albus looked sadder than Severus had ever seen him look, piquing his interest.

"Actually, I have seen this before. My sister, Ariana, lost control of her magic when she was six years old, after a very unfortunate incident with some young muggles in the neighborhood. Whenever she got upset, Ariana's magic would pulse and spark like Harry's just did. My family didn't want her taken away to St. Mungos, so we kept her hidden away. My mother and brother were her main caretakers, as I was at school already. When my mother died, I tried to care for her myself so Alberforth could stay at school. That summer, there was a fight among my brother, Gellert Grindelwald, and me; Ariana became upset and sent out pulses of uncontrolled magic. We never knew exactly what happened, but she was killed in the fighting. She was just fourteen."

For once, Severus' features were not schooled into an unreadable mask. He was plainly reeling from that story, and its possible implications for Harry.

"Not to worry, at least not as much as you are, my dear boy. The ten years age difference between Ariana then and Harry now is critical, I believe. He's a fully trained wizard and will be able to participate in steps to control his magic, where Ariana was completely at the mercy of her magic when this started for her. By the time Ariana was old enough to understand what was going on and might have been able to do something to control her magic, her magic was too far gone."

Albus rose and began to pace, to bleed off some of the nervousness he felt.

"No, the thing that worries me is the impact of others knowing about this, and the fear it will engender. The amount of magic that Harry has is fearsome enough, even when it is under his complete control and being used for benevolent purposes. If images such as the one you just saw appeared on the cover of the Daily Prophet - - well. Who knows?"

As he spoke, Albus removed his wand from his sleeve, and with a wave of it, the memory in the Pensieve disappeared.

"That image is gone. Just you and I have seen it. I do not believe either Darmut or Stark looked at Harry in the wake of what happened today. They both jumped to protect the people at the reception from the assassin, so their focus went immediately elsewhere. I also don't believe that any of the portraits had a good line of sight to Harry; I suspect that they all ducked, just like the witches and wizards did. That leaves just the house elves who were assisting at the reception, and since only Harry or I ever speak to them, it is very unlikely that they'd be asked even if they did see something. And, of course, everyone else fell to the ground immediately when Harry yelled."

With a look so serious directed to Severus that it made him squirm, Albus finished his thought. "We need to help Harry get control of this right away. His wandless bursts are well-known and the general populace will be as sympathetic to this one as they were to the last, given that they were his reaction to a direct attack on his bondmate. If people saw the kind of loss of control that could harm them, not just wrongdoers, there will be no sympathy, just fear. If the general public sees what you and I just saw, Harry will be forced to go away, for his own and others' safety. We need him – his leadership, his magical strength, his valor, to win the fight against Voldemort. If he is forced into seclusion, all will be lost."

Severus drew on his years of exposure to the Dark Lord: he suppressed his own emotions, and forced his mind to focus clearly on the problem at hand. With a calming breath, he began to sift through what he knew about potions that strengthened magical control.

Severus did not get far with his mental inventory before he and Albus were interrupted by the arrival of Madam Pomfrey with Harry in tow. She looked upset, but then again, she had looked even more upset earlier when arguing with Severus. Harry looked sheepish, almost embarrassed.

"Headmaster, Professor Snape, I've completed my workup on Mr. Potter, and we need to discuss the findings. Normally, I'd do this privately with Mr. Potter, but he told me that he is very comfortable with including the two of you, and meeting together will save him having to repeat it all to you later. A discussion will all of us present thus seems quite appropriate, under the circumstances."

She shooed Harry over to a chair, took one herself, and waited for the Headmaster and Severus to similarly be seated. All eyes were on her, some warier than others.

"Physically, Mr. Potter is fine, no health concerns at all. His problems are all magical."

Madam Pomfrey looked at the two older wizards to be sure they understood her, and noticed that they both seemed to have expected that statement from her.

"His magical pathways are actually quite strong; Mr. Potter is a magical adult in that regards. This is not a matter of his needing time to mature. For the most part. The ends of the pathways are frayed, no doubt the result of the bursts he's been sending out. I've never encountered anyone with the level of magic that Mr. Potter has within him. I see a potential for spillover – he seems to have more magic than could flow through his pathways. I am assuming that we want to keep this very confidential, so I've not initiated any consultation with the staffs at St. Mungo's or elsewhere. But we do need to consider what we can do to possibly expand his capacity to control his magic so it always goes through the magical pathways that exist to channel it, and then to strengthen the ends of the pathways against the damage caused by these occasional outbursts."

Severus leaned back in his chair, appraising the school's mediwitch. He'd always regarded her a very competent at what she did, but she really captured what was going on with Harry, by his estimation. The fraying of the ends of his magical pathways was totally expected, given the bursts of wandless magic, and there were potions to assist with that, so he dismissed that problem.

Of course, a young man whose power resulted in his acknowledgement as the king of the wizarding world at age 16 would have an extraordinarly large amount of magic within him. The concept of "magical spillage" – what a strange way to put it, but on reflection, that's what he saw in Albus' memory. Magic got out, but not as it should have, through one of the pathways in Harry's body. It spilled out all over him. No simple potion would fix this, but there were exercises and possibly a charm or two that might help Harry control this. Would it be possible to expand his magical pathways, as well?

Albus was thinking along the same lines. Spillage – exactly. He was confident that he and Severus would be able to come up with something to help Harry keep his magic flowing properly. He leaned back, with a very satisfied smile on his face.

"Ah, Poppy, I believe you have provided exactly the information we needed. We expected that Harry had done some damage to the ends of his magical pathways; uncontrolled bursts of wandless magic almost always do that. Harry, I will start working with you now on the use of wandless magic. It's normally not something we'd consider for anyone under 30 or 40, but you are clearly a special case. I suspect helping you harness your and channel it wandlessly will be better for you in the long run than holding off on using this skill until you are older. I'd like to discuss this more with Severus, but I suspect that when you and your magic are comfortable acting without a wand on a more regular basis, the process of channeling your magic into your pathways will be more controlled, too."

Harry cast a nervous look at Severus, and was relieved to see him nodding in agreement with the Headmaster. He had been very worried that he'd be told he had to stop doing wandless magic, which was hard when he actually had no idea how it happened to start with.

Albus continued. "We do, of course, appreciate your not contacting St. Mungos. Anything to do with Harry, or Severus for that matter, is to be kept as confidential as possible, and that means within Hogwarts unless there is some extremely compelling reason to ask for help from other sources." The mediwitch nodded; that was exactly how she had planned to approach this.

"I've provided you with vials of a potion that heals the fraying of the ends of the magical pathways, Poppy," Severus pointed out. Inevitably, there was a first year student or two who had difficulty working with his or her wand and misdirected their magic, so there was always a need for that potion to fix the fraying before it became a serious problem. "Have you dosed Harry?"

She nodded. "I've already given him a dose and will check him for the next several days and provide more if necessary."

Severus nodded in agreement. "Thank you. Harry, the Headmaster and I will discuss it, but while he works with you on using and managing wandless magic, I can work with you on some exercises to focus on controlling the initial surge of magic."

Harry smiled in relief, and relaxed a bit back into his chair. He'd been worried about that. He did not know exactly what happened to him, but after the burst of wandless magic today, he knew he'd felt funny for several minutes. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he could not erase the memory of the look of horror on the Headmaster's face as the old man called him over to Severus' fallen shape; he'd just seen this out of the corner of his eye, but that was definitely horror and it was directed at him – he was what scared the Headmaster. And he remembered seeing something that looked like electricity jumping between his fingers. It didn't hurt, but it certainly wasn't normal. It sounded like Severus and the Headmaster would be able to help him.

A light clap of his hands, as if in glee, brought everyone's attention back to Albus. "Well done, all! Madam Pomfrey, you've helped us solve the puzzle of Harry's condition. Severus, Harry, you boys need a night to rest. Tomorrow morning, Severus and I will discuss a regimen of exercises and whatever other approaches we feel should be used to help you control that initial flow of magic, and we'll work up a schedule for him to work on those with you and for me to begin to school you in wandless magic. In the meantime, dinner awaits, and I've got it on good authority that the dessert will be a most excellent treacle tart!"

The three professors entered as usual through the door near the Head Table, and a solid murmur arose when Severus was spotted walking along with the Headmaster. Harry used the student's entrance in the back of the room, and was able to get to his usual seat between Ron and Hermione with little notice as everyone was craning their necks for a look at Severus.

Copies of the special afternoon edition of the Daily Prophet were strewn across the table, and the headline on the front page explained the great interest in Severus' appearance: Attack at Ministry – Potter Bondmate Slain?

Hermione reacted immediately when Harry gently pushed against her shoulder to scoot over a bit for him to sit. "Oh, Harry – what a relief to see Professor Snape!" That exclamation earned her looks of shock and disgust from the Gryffindors around her, but when the others saw that Harry had arrived, the focus moved to him.

Ron offered a good-natured pat on the back as Harry scrambled over the bench. "Glad you're alright, mate. Quite a scare to read that article. What really happened? Draco was there, and he wasn't so sure that the Prophet didn't get the story right."

"I'm probably not the best one to ask. I guess Draco told you about the presentation his father made to the Wizengamot. That went well. Then there was the award ceremony, which also went well. During the reception after the award ceremony, someone threw a Killing Curse at Severus. I was able to deflect it somewhat, but it glanced off him, and knocked him unconscious. Really, I spent all my time after that with Severus, trying to help him. I know that there were some Aurors in the room, and they sprang into action. I don't really know anything else. It turned out that Severus hit his head hard when he fell to the floor, so he was out cold for a while, but I think he and his magic are OK now."

Hermione cast an appraising eye at Harry. She, of course, had read the entire newspaper, not just the headline. There was a lengthy article about Mr. Malfoy's presentation at the Wizengamot, very complimentary. It described what she expected he would do with the task that Harry had given him, although she hoped someone with extensive knowledge of wizarding law was going to review all his proposals carefully, just in case. The presentation of the Order of Merlin, First Class, to Professor Snape was also reported on in a very complimentary article that seemed lifted from a press release, rather than by someone in attendance at the event. That wasn't surprising, given how private the event was to be.

The report about the reception itself seemed to have been based on much less reliable accounts, mostly interviews with people or portraits who had told the reporter that they'd seen something. The facts were not really consistent, or certainly not connected. There was mention of a Ministry official who had been killed, and some mention of an intruder, but no connection between the Ministry official, the intruder and the attack on the Professor. There was mention of the Killing Curse being thrown in the reception, but nothing definitive about what harm it caused, if it hit its mark, who it was directed toward, or of Harry's role, assuming he had one.

As he served himself from the large platters that had just appeared on the table, Harry noticed that Ron's freckles seemed darker and he and several of the others seemed a bit sunburned. It must have been a good day for flying. "It looks like you all go in some flying," he offered, to get the chatter focused on something other than the events at the Ministry. His friends were having none of it.

"My mum came back from the reception and Madam Pomfrey has confined her to her bed for a day to be sure she and the baby are OK," Ron went on, ignoring Harry's effort to change the subject. "Mum said you let loose with another burst of wandless magic, and splattered the guy who threw the Killing Curse against the wall in the reception room."

Hermione and Ginny, as well as a few of the other girls sitting in the area looked vaguely disgusted at that description, although Seamus seemed quite taken by it.

"Go on, then Harry, tell old Seamus – what did you do? Wandless?"

"Yeah, I guess I did send out some wandless magic. I have no idea how I did it. When I see something that really upsets me, like a Killing Curse heading toward Severus, it just happens. Like I said, I missed most of what went on after that. I apparently deflected the curse, and then I was focused on Severus. I pretty much know what the Headmaster told me about what happened. Your mum saw more than I did, Ron."

Harry wasn't quite the font of information they'd been hoping for, but the Gryffindors did accept that he'd told them what little he knew about the events of the day, so they returned their focus to the Daily Prophets strewn about, and continued on with their speculation.

Naturally, Hermione suspected that there was more, but she kept her thoughts to herself. If Harry did have more to say, the last place he'd say it was in front of this lot. She did have something to tell him, though, and she was quite confident that her fellow Gryffindors would not be tempted to eavesdrop. In a soft, conversational voice, she spoke to Harry.

"Well, you guessed how Ron and the others spent the afternoon. I was in the library, of course." At this point, it was safe to assume that everyone within earshot was going to tune her out on principle – the school year was over and the last place your average Gryffindor wanted to be was the library.

"I started researching that magical transference issue we had discussed. I found a bit more than I expected. The phenomenon is not unheard of, but it's hard to document because, let's face it, most people have magic pretty much like everyone else's, so there not much to suggest it even happened. But there were a few cases where something interesting did occur, so more attention was paid to the people involved. The mechanism isn't clearly understood, but I'd be glad to share what I found out so far, if you'd like," she offered, with an encouraging smile.

Harry had been mulling over what he'd learned in the Headmaster's office from Madam Pomfrey. Strictly speaking, that had nothing to do with the attack on Severus, per se, so he did not feel he'd actually lied to anyone with the answers he provided to their questions about what happened at the Ministry. There was clearly something jumble-y about his magic, though. Was it possible that there was a connection between his taking on the magic of others and this spillage problem?

"You know, Mione, I had a work-up with Madam Pomfrey after I got back from the Ministry this afternoon," he began tentatively. Hermione looked quite interested in this, so he continued. "Severus and the Headmaster were worried I was fraying the edges of my magical pathways or something like that. Would you, and Ron of course, be willing to come down to my rooms tonight? Just for a bit. I'd like to explain as best I can what seems to be happening. You might find something about it in the research you are doing, and I want to be sure you know what to look for. And I'd like for Severus to hear what you've found out, of course."

"Sure, Harry," she answered, clearly surprised by this invitation. She'd never actually been to Harry's rooms, and was interested for that reason alone. Why his rooms, though? There were lots of places around the castle where private conversations could occur, that would attract no attention and cause no comments. This was strange. She realized she wasn't even sure where the rooms were.

A treacle tart and an assortment of some less sweet dessert options appeared, and she and Harry made their selections as she considered how to get Ron separated from his friends so he could join her for this momentous visit.

Harry solved her problem by just asking Ron to step over to the stairs with him as the group left dinner a short while later. He followed along without question, and waved off their friends, promising they'd see them later. When Harry kept on walking down the stairs into the dungeons, Ron followed happily along. It wasn't until they were at the foot of the stairs that Harry finally explained what they were doing.

"Ron, Hermione was doing some research about magical transference for me." It was clear from the looks on their faces that Hermione had told Ron all about this, and he was at best vaguely aware that she had a special research project. Harry knew better than to make any issue about this, or he and Ron would both be subject to Hermione's scolding, probably about Ron not listening to her. He quickly closed that opening by continuing.

"I actually think I have a bigger problem than just a burst of wandless magic today, but I'm not sure I know enough about it. I don't have secrets from you two. Madam Pomfrey discussed whatever this is with Severus and the Headmaster, and I want you to know about it. I'm hoping that Hermione's research might uncover something about this, so I especially want her to know. Do you mind if we go to my rooms, and wait for Severus? He's supposed to come straight back here after dinner, so I doubt we'll have much of a wait, and he can fill in what I don't know. And Hermione can tell us about what she's finding out."

It was one thing to pay a visit to Harry's rooms with Harry, but quite another to be there at the same time as Professor Snape. Hermione, always the seeker of knowledge, would endure far worse than Severus Snape to learn a new fact, so this was just fine with her. Ron, on the other hand, looked quite stricken. It was too late to bolt – he certainly did not want to leave Hermione on her own in Slytherin territory, so he seemed (and looked) trapped.

Harry smiled at the look on Ron's face as he led his two friends along corridors that were now quite familiar to him, and were clearly unfamiliar territory to them. He spoke the password to the portrait guarding the door to their rooms, and nodded, rather than reply in Parseltongue to Salazar's greeting. Even though Ron and Hermione had heard him speak Parseltongue before, he was always careful to avoid it when he could; he really hated the looks he usually got when he spoke it in front of most others.

It was clear from the darkness and slight chill in the air that Severus wasn't back yet – he always put a small fire in the grate, and usually left a sconce burning in the sitting room when he returned after dinner. Harry did the honors instead, and had a house elf bring them some after-dinner teas.

Hermione looked ready to burst with curiosity. He was sure she'd love to see the rooms, and would probably be thrilled to see the library. Ron looked too terrified to move. Playing the host, Harry offered a brief tour. "The rooms surprised me when I first moved in. I guess I always imagined that the rooms down here would look like prison cells or something. This room is pretty nice, no? You need the fire most nights to ward off the chill, but otherwise, it's very comfortable. We have a small kitchen, a library, and a potions lab, as well as a bedroom and bath, of course."

The kitchen seemed safe, so he started there, herding Hermione and Ron along. The two stood at the entrance, just peeking into the kitchen, like it was an exhibit in a muggle museum. Next stop was the library. Harry opened the doors leading to the small room, and Hermione duly poked her head in, seemingly influenced by Ron to be as unobtrusive as possible. Harry took a full step into the library, and gestured for both of them to follow.

"Severus has always said that these are my rooms as much as his. I admit, I haven't been very social about anything, but still, I live here and you are here as my guests. Come, see the library!" Harry cajoled them. With tentative steps, Hermione did. "Most of the books are Severus', of course, so mostly we have Potions journals and books, but it's a nice room."

Hermione conducted a quick survey and hastily retreated back to the sitting room. "It is nice and cozy, Harry, but it doesn't look like it's used often."

Harry wondered what tipped her off, but she was right. "We usually sit out here, if Severus is reading or just grading papers. There are some desks we can use here, and that way, we each have company." Ron looked horrified at the description of a quiet night at the Snape-Potter's. "If Severus has brewing to do, he does that in his lab. I have a desk in there, behind wards, if I want to just be in there with him doing my work while he does his."

The trio took seats in chairs around the fire place, and had just served themselves tea when the door opened.

Severus was treated to a sight had hoped he'd never see – Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger making themselves at home on his sofa.


	35. Ch 112 Aftermath of the Attack

Chapter 112 – Aftermath of the Attack

It had been such a long day, and, really, the last thing Severus needed at this point was having to deal with "company." Why on earth had they chosen tonight, of all nights, to get together?

Harry spoke right up, answering Severus' unspoken questions.

"Severus, I know we've had a long day, but I asked Hermione and Ron to stop in for just a few minutes so I could tell them about my magic problem. I wasn't sure I got the whole thing from what Madam Pomfrey said to you and the Headmaster – at least it seemed like you and the Headmaster had been talking about it before and were factoring in what she said, so I don't think I have the whole story."

Severus was a bit taken aback, first that Harry had drawn such accurate conclusions from the conversation about him, and that he wanted to share such, well, intimate details with these two. He nodded, very cautiously, directing a very questioning look at Harry. If the young man was getting so good at reading into things, maybe he'd understand why Severus found this request concerning.

Whether he understood Severus' thought process or not, Harry went on as Severus walked over to his comfortable chair and slowly took his seat.

"Hermione had volunteered to do some research for me on this whole "magical transference" thing. I picked up the ability to speak Parseltongue from one wizard, and seem to have acquired some magical familiars and another new ability through a magical artifact linked to another wizard." Severus' elegant eyebrows arched dramatically at that. He and the Headmaster had speculated on the ravens' arrival, and, yes, assumed it had something to do with the explosion of the Eye of Odin, but they'd not discussed a pattern going back to the day Harry got his scar. Very interesting, indeed.

Harry continued, "I got worried about how I went around attracting this loose magic. Why does it happen? Can I control it? Will it hurt me? I wanted to understand it better, if I can, and she offered to look into it for me."

Severus looked at Hermione, wondering if she'd be picking up the story at this point, but she was still looking at Harry, so there must be more.

"Anyway, when Madam Pomfrey mentioned "magical spillage" today, I started to wonder: do I have capacity for a certain amount of magic, and when I added more from other wizards, did that make it spill over? I want Hermione to know about that, so if she comes upon anything in her research that might connect to that, she can call it out for me."

"An admirable undertaking, Miss Granger," Severus allowed dryly, with a look that might have been disbelief. "With only one day of research, have you found much?"

She nodded eagerly, either not recognizing or choosing to ignore the possible dig in the Professor's comments.

"There is more out there about magical transference than I expected. As I told Harry over dinner, most wizards have magic that's just like everyone else's, so I think it is possible that this actually happens frequently but no one notices anything different. There have been some cases where someone suddenly demonstrated a skill or talent they'd never had before, and those were the ones that have gotten attention and been written up. I was about to tell him about this at dinner, when he told me about the magical spillage situation, and asked that we speak with you."

She took a moment to find the notes she'd made on one of her ever-present parchments, while Severus watched her with patient interest.

"OK. I found four separate records of cases in which magical transference seemed to have been identified. The cases were actually regarded as instances where a witch or wizard suddenly acquired a new talent that they'd never demonstrated before; I don't believe the idea that magic was transferred was ever considered. However, I think that's what happened."

Severus was initially inclined to scoff at this whole exercise. Trained mediwizards had seen cases and NOT thought about magical transference, and Miss Granger spends a day in the library and rewrites the entire field of inquiry? However, his experience today with the Ministry's mediwizards had lowered his opinion of at least some of them, and he had to acknowledge that Harry's friend did seem to have a unique and create way of looking at things. It would be interesting to see how she managed to reach her conclusions.

"The mediwizard who documented each case seemed to be focused on the magical skill or talent – someone was suddenly gifted with the ability of a seer, or someone suddenly had remarkable skill as a legilimens. When they found no other reports of someone developing that particular new magical talent, it appears that they concluded they were seeing the first expression of the phenomenon. The facts of the four cases I found are actually quite similar, if you take out the magical talent involved: a witch or wizard was physically near to another witch or wizard who was killed by some sort of powerful burst of magic. The witch or wizard who acquired the new magical talent was impacted by the burst; some were nearly killed themselves, others were just brushed by the burst, but there was a contact. Shortly after the event involving the burst of magic, the one who survived found that they had a new magical talent, and then consulted their mediwizard."

Severus felt he had to comment. "Interesting, indeed, Miss Granger, to find that common event in every case. But that doesn't establish that magical transference is the explanation for the sudden arrival of a new skill. The shock of the event – being close to someone who had been killed, or the connection to the burst of magic – might just as well caused a latent talent to come forth, no?"

Severus noticed the Weasley boy glaring at him – he had a look on his face that suggested he'd have taken Severus' words as a reason to start an argument if he was actually part of the conversation; typical Gryffindor. Harry seemed interested in his friend's response – that was a weakness in her case, but one it was possible she'd considered.

Naturally, she had considered it.

"Of course, that's a possibility," Hermione acknowledged as she continued. "As I said, the records prepared by the mediwizards were focused on the new talent, not on the events that preceded its arrival. All but one report did not even give the names of the wizards involved. However, the report about the wizard who became a seer did give his name. I found the obituary in the Daily Prophet about him – he died about 75 years ago. The obituary mentioned that he was the wizard who captured a notorious murderer. I looked for articles about the notorious murderer, and sure enough, the Prophet had articles about him and the murder he committed. Supposedly, the murderer suspected his wife of having an affair with some prominent person, and he cast an Avada Kedavra spell at this man at a big gathering. The wizard in the obituary had been standing right next to the murderer and was the first one to subdue him after he cast the spell. I tracked down some articles about the wizard who was killed, and one of them mentioned that he had once made a famous prophecy."

She stopped and looked around. The Professor still looked a bit skeptical, Harry looked cautious, and Ron looked confused.

"Not the strongest case, I know, but that was the only instance where I could get information about the person who was killed in front of the wizard who got the new skill. Now, let's look at the events where we assume Harry got his two new skills. He was obviously right there when Voldemort was hit by the rebounding Avada Kedavra spell that he'd lobbed at Harry. Voldemort didn't actually die, but he was severely damaged by what hit him. Yes, we don't know for sure that Harry wasn't already a Parselmouth when this happened, but I did look over that book Sirius gave you" she added as she gestured to Severus "and there was no mention of anyone in Harry's lineage being a Parselmouth, and that is usually an inherited skill."

Severus was ready to protest the invasion of Harry's privacy. Those lineage books were for family only; how dare she? But then he realized the only way she'd have been able to look at that book was if Harry gave it to her. He did have to speak to that young man about where he should have boundaries!

"Then we look at the Eye of Odin. A magical artifact, but the legend says it was really a part of Odin's body and it contained his magical signature, so I'm going to assume that its destruction would work for these purposes the same as the destruction of the actual wizard himself. The artifact blew up in Harry's hand, and Harry was lucky to survive that. We do know that Harry was not able to see Paths of Fate, nor did he have ravens as familiars before that, but he did after. Again, legend tells us that Odin could see those Paths, and his familiars were ravens."

There was silence when she finished, as everyone digested this.

Harry spoke first. "Were the wizards who suddenly had a new talent harmed by that? Any indication that it happened more than once to one witch or wizard?"

Hermione paused for just a beat to mentally review her sources before she answered. "Nothing was said about this being a negative. People were puzzled about their new talent, maybe worried about where it came from, but harmed? No. Most of the reports explained how the mediwizards tested the talent, verified that the witch or wizard really had it, that sort of thing. But they just were a witch or wizard with that talent going forward. And, no, it happened in a very disjointed way, which is why the incidents seemed to never get connected. I guess, when you think on it, most witches or wizards just aren't in position that someone would be killed like that in front of them. Add to that the fact that the person who got killed would have to have an unusual talent that they'd notice if it was transferred to them." With a slight shrug, she ended her report.

Severus shook his head at Hermione. This one was a wonder. "Most impressive work, Miss Granger. Congratulations." She beamed in surprise and pleasure at the compliment. "I am not sure that the transfer of a magical talent involves the transfer of a volume of magic, but was there anything in any of the records you consulted that suggested that anyone had any problems with their magic, any at all, after manifesting a new talent?"

Again a pause as she reflected on all that she'd learned. "I didn't see any mention about that. If anyone had a problem, it didn't reveal itself, at least, while they were doing the testing and writing the reports. That doesn't mean something didn't happen later, of course."

Severus ran a finger across his chin as he thought about that. "Miss Granger, I would like to propose that you spend just a bit more time to see if you can add any other incidents that might involve a transfer of magic, just to broaden the research base. Four is not much of a sample. See if you can get the identities of the wizards involved. Then see if you can find out more about the talents of the wizards who died. Can we validate the notion that something in their magic might have transferred the skill to the other wizard? Try to determine if there were any reported magical issues of the wizard with the new talent, as well. If you need access to medical journals," he asked with a question in his voice, "I'm sure we can arrange something suitably private, possibly through Madam Pomfrey or a private library."

"Actually, I found a number of medical journals in our library, not even in the restricted section. I'll finish up the research there tomorrow, maybe one more day, and then ask Madam Pomfrey for access to a medical library to pursue my research, to see if I've missed anything of note."

"Thanks, Mione. I appreciate your work. I really hate to ask you to spend what's now your summer vacation stuck in the library," Harry offered, with a real tone of regret in his voice. He suspected it really wasn't such an imposition on Hermione – he and many others in Gryffindor suspected she lived in a library when she was at home, anyway. However, he was sure Ron wasn't happy about this, so the regret was as much for him as for her.

As expected, she waived his regret off. "It's not an imposition, Harry. You know I love a good puzzle, and I'm so happy to help you."

Severus looked at Harry with a look that he hoped conveyed his concern about sharing too many of his private details with others. Harry was having none of that.

"Severus, I don't keep secrets from Hermione or Ron – they are my best friends, and I trust them. I want you to tell them – us, actually – what you can about the magical spillage situation. You've asked Hermione to look for any reference to trouble that these witches and wizards had with their magic after they got a new skill, but maybe she'll spot something that wasn't regarded as "trouble" if she has a fuller understanding of exactly what seems to be going on with me."

Severus took a deep breath, and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head at Harry. Not what he'd advise, but it was clear that Harry had made up his mind. In truth, the Granger girl was quite the researcher, so giving her more information about Harry's condition might well yield insights. But Weasley – ! Again, not what he'd advise.

"We have two frames of reference about this. Madam Pomfrey did a thorough scan of you when you returned from the Ministry, and reported that your magical pathways were frayed. That happens sometimes. We have a potion to strengthen the ends of the pathways, and you've already been dosed. That is almost assuredly the result of the burst of wandless magic. We'll deal with that by having the Headmaster work with you on learning to use, and thus control, wandless magic. I think that will be fine."

Severus couldn't help but notice the look of intense jealousy that appeared on Ron's face on hearing that Harry was going to be tutored in the use of wandless magic. Almost against his better judgment, he added "Generally, no one under the age of 40 even attempts wandless magic, because it requires very mature magical pathways to avoid the risk of fraying. Since you're doing it anyway, controlling it is better than just hoping it doesn't happen anymore."

Ron did seem mollified by that.

"She also reported that you have more magic within you than she's ever seen before. She mentioned her concern about a potential for spillover when you have more in you that would seem could fit into your pathways. What she has proposed is that we expand your capacity to control your magic so it always proceeds into your pathways. The Headmaster and I are going to work on some approaches to expand your pathways and strengthen them, as well as help you to develop your control."

Hermione pointed out, "You said you had two frames of reference. I assume Madam Pomfrey's evaluation is one. What is the other?"

Ah, the big question. What to say? Severus thought quickly; he was not going to describe the frightening sight in Albus' memory in any detail, but he had to say something.

"The Headmaster and I believe that Harry experienced spillage this afternoon. Harry probably sent out a burst of magic that was more than could fit into his pathways, and it spilled out over him. It took him just a second or two to control it, but it happened. That validated Madam Pomfrey's concern about a potential for spillage, in our eyes. We do believe that the various approaches we have identified will enable Harry to control this in the future."

None of them seemed particularly frightened or disturbed by what he'd told them, which Severus suspected was more a function of not appreciating how potentially serious this could be for Harry, if he could not control it.

Ron cleared his throat. "Actually, my mum said that she dropped to the floor as soon as she heard Harry shout for everyone to duck, but as she was on the ground, too scared to lift her head, she heard a crackling sound. It lasted just a second or two. She didn't see anything when she raised her head, but she did hear something."

Oh. While it was good to get confirmation of Albus' belief that it was unlikely that anyone _saw_ anything, they had not considered that this phenomenon was audible. He would speak to Molly first thing tomorrow about not sharing this detail further.

"Likely, your mother did hear the effect of the spillage. I would imagine that it did produce a crackling sound, before Harry brought it under control," Severus responded. "I'll mention that to the Headmaster; he did not say anything about it making a sound, but he was possibly distracted at the time."

Severus was thinking fast. He felt that he needed to be sure that these three understood that this was serious, but it also would not be good to terrify them, although in truth, based on their shared history, this trio might not be capable of being terrified. They did need to see how others might react, however.

"This phenomenon, this magical spillage, will likely scare others if they witness it. Harry's magic is massive, as you no doubt imagine, and the sight of it coursing over his skin is frightening to behold. What that will mean to Harry is not clear, if others are terrified of him. Our objective is to control it before it becomes an issue for Harry at all."

Harry looked stricken again, and Severus' heart ached at the sight. Despite the audience, particularly this audience, he could not control his impulse to say more. With a steady gaze right into Harry's eyes, he said "We will find a way, Harry, to prevent this from being a problem. I swear that to you."

Hermione could not control herself either. "Oh, Harry, we _will_ solve this. We've dealt with everything else that's come your way, our way, since we got to Hogwarts. We're not going to leave you on your own at this point, not at all!"

Harry's eyes were locked on Severus' and did not waver. Hermione noticed this, and suddenly realized that it was time for her and Ron to leave. She quietly took Ron by the hand and stood, muttering as she pushed him toward the door, "We'll see ourselves out, Harry. Good night, Professor."

Neither Severus nor Harry seemed to notice that Harry's friends had departed, not for long minutes as they sat in chairs opposite each other in front of the fire, staring at each other, communicating without words.

At long last, Harry's need for the comfort of touch overwhelmed him. He stood up from his chair and closed the space to Severus' chair quickly. His expression was blank, but his eyes betrayed the distress he felt. He lowered himself onto Severus' lap, his legs tucked to one side as he wedged his head in the crook of Severus' neck. Severus gently held Harry in place, as they sat in continued silence.

Severus' heart ached for the distress of his young bondmate, and he knew at that moment he would do whatever it took to prevent Harry from finding himself an object of fright. He knew, absolutely knew, that Harry would never hurt him, so no matter what happened with Harry's magic, he would be safe with him. They might have to remove themselves from society, not that being part of society necessarily meant all that much to either of them. They had each other.

And at that thought, the oddest , almost misplaced feeling of joy swept through Severus. They had each other. And Harry once again had chosen him to provide comfort, this time over his two friends of longest standing. He was thrilled for the confirmation of the place he held in Harry's heart, and vowed that he would be deserving of this remarkable trust.

Finally, Harry spoke, his voice just above a whisper.

"You remember what you promised me, don't you, Severus? You will not let me hurt anyone I love."

Softly, Severus answered him, around a growing lump in this throat.

"Of course, I remember that. And I will not let you hurt anyone. I firmly believe that we will find a way to render this entire discussion moot, you realize. But. . . but, if the unthinkable happens and you are not able to control this and you become a risk to others, you and I will go away. You will not be alone; I will be with you. We will go to a place where you will not be a risk to anyone, and we will live our lives."

Tears pooled in Harry's eyes as he clung even tighter to his bondmate. Severus had spoken directly to his deepest fear. He was not going to have to return to the cupboard under the stairs, a place where he would be all alone. Severus would be with him.

A certain moistness appeared in Severus' eyes, too, as he held Harry, in response to the feeling that Harry was clinging to him for his very life.

More long moments passes. Finally Harry broke the silence.

"If you don't get a full 10 hours of sleep, I suspect that Madam Pomfrey will have some way to tell, and we'll both be in big trouble."

With a chuff, Severus agreed. "She probably will know. Come along then, up you go." He helped Harry get untangled off his lap, and then stood himself, straightening his robes as he did.

They were both ready for bed in just a few minutes, with Severus sitting up on his side of the bed, and Harry perched on top of the blankets facing him. Harry offered Severus the vial of sleeping draught that Madam Pomfrey had give him.

"Here you go. Sleep well."

With a look of resignation, Severus accepted the vial and drank it down. Harry helped him stretch out on his back and get comfortable, and could see the that the potion was having its intended effect, as Severus was growing visibly sleepy. Just as he slipped completely into slumber, Harry covered him with a light blanket.

As had become his custom, Harry moved right next to Severus and put his head on his chest, pressing his ear down to hear the steady beat of his heart. That was the most comforting sound in the world to Harry. As he was about to drift off to sleep himself, he pressed his hand against Severus' chest to check Severus' magic one more time.

Definitely Severus' signature, maybe the magic had gotten a bit jumbled, but it was still definitely Severus.

X X X X X X X X X

At Malfoy Manor, Lucius enjoyed a snifter of his most precious vintage brandy. He was seated in a dark blue velvet dressing gown, in one of the tapestry chairs next to the fireplace in his bed chamber. A genuine smile teased at the edges of his lips as he reflected back on the events of this most remarkable day.

Everything had gone exactly as planned at the Wizengamot. His presentation had been impeccable; he had achieved exactly the tone he wanted, and felt that he had made the maximum impact on all points. He'd seen some of the looks of surprise on the faces of some of his fellow Wizengamot members, suspicion on the face of his old friend Severus, but Harry Potter seemed interested. Edward Aventine had been most lavish in his praise after the session ended, too.

All in all, a most excellent outcome.

And even Narcissa had been there! He hadn't even dared ask her to come – he could not imagine the size of the opal he'd have to find in order to entice her to sit through a session at the Wizengamot. And yet – at breakfast this morning, she'd appeared in a very stylish (and quite expensive) robe with some sedate (but also quite expensive) jewelry, and announced that she'd sent an owl to Draco that morning asking him to be her escort to the Wizengamot!

And she'd sat through the entire thing, looking quite enthralled. She'd also readily indicated that she planned on joining Lucius and Draco at the luncheon after, where she'd taken his arm and been exceedingly gracious and charming to everyone. Of course, that meant she was also present at the Order of Merlin ceremony for Severus, but she'd even been very warm in her congratulations to him, and almost motherly in her greeting to Harry Potter.

Lucius pondered the brazen attack. What on earth was someone thinking in doing that? He was relieved, he supposed, that Severus had survived – an owl after dinner from his son had confirmed that Severus had actually appeared at dinner at Hogwarts that evening. What was this world coming to that such an attack could be made right in the Ministry offices, under the nose of the Minister herself? Who stood to gain by such an action?

Even the attack, though, brought about a surprising reaction from Narcissa. He, of course, had immediately sought to shield her from harm with his own body, but she was worried about Draco and was calling out to him rather desperately, even trying to get out from the shelter Lucius had created for her to get to Draco. It painted quite the picture of family affection and loyalty for the other attendees, but goodness knows, Narcissa had never done anything remotely like that before.

What had gotten into her?

One room away, in Narcissa's own private bedchamber, she was seated at her vanity, combing her hair in front of the mirror. She was wearing a pale pink satin and lace nightgown; it was purchased with the seduction of someone else in mind, but never used; it was very beautiful and did look quite fetching on her, so she wore it this evening for a different seduction.

When she was satisfied that her hair was perfect, Narcissa applied some tinted powder with a downy puff, giving her skin an ethereal glow, and she finished off her face with a few dabs of a deep crimson stain on her lips. She cast an appraising look at her reflection before determining that it was time to move.

She'd been mesmerized by her husband's performance at the Wizengamot this morning, and began plotting this seduction as she sat in the gallery next to her son. Everyone in the room was watching Lucius closely, but she was paying no attention at all to the words he was speaking, just absolutely stunned by the power of his conviction and the emotion with which he pled his case. Goodness, it had been years since she'd been so positively smitten by Lucius or anyone else.

She'd endured the dreary luncheon, being sure to be especially charming to anyone who seemed to have her husband's favor or attention, and she'd even managed to sound sincere and warm when greeting people at the reception for Severus.

And the attack! Her husband had quickly thrown her to the ground and tried to cover her and protect her with his own body. She felt she might almost lose control of herself at that point, with his firm body pressed to her as he attempted to shield her from harm. She had to do something to distract herself, and calling for Draco came to mind. When they'd finally stood up, when all was safe, Lucius had been so attentive, having a house elf bring her a brandy. She could not recall the last time she'd felt so cared-for, for herself. Of course, whenever Lucius needed her to do something, she was cared for – her jewel box was overflowing with little baubles he'd felt compelled to offer her to secure her presence at various events that were not of interest to her but that her husband wanted to attend. This was just about her, though, not what he wanted her to do for him.

Slowly, Narcissa opened the door that separated her bedchamber from her husband's and she floated in, satin and lace gown swirling around her, hair glistening, skin glowing and slightly fragranced. The surprise that was on Lucius' face when the almost-never-used door between his and his wife's bedrooms opened quickly gave way to a look of pure lust.

It was not more than a few minutes later that Narcissa's plan to seduce her husband was realized.

X X X X X X X X X

Voldemort sat at the large dining table in Riddle Manor with a copy of the special edition of the Daily Prophet open before him. He'd had an early dinner and was about to retire to his study to refine some battle plans when one of his minions arrived with the newspaper.

He read the entire paper, and was frustrated by the fact that nothing in there confirmed that the traitorous Snape had in fact been killed. Gone were the days when he knew almost as soon as the Minister did (and sometimes, before the Minister knew) what was going on at the Ministry. He did miss Lucius and his connections.

At least one of the Death Eaters had seen the paper and thought to bring it to him!

The Death Eaters who'd formed up again around their Dark Lord were just not of the same caliber as most of them were in the old days. Several good witches and wizards were killed when that damned Potter stole the Eye of Odin from his hand a year ago. More recently, many of his former associates had simply not gotten around to speaking to him when he'd tried to locate them after he'd sent out the sleeping spell. That was unfortunate, but after all, the smarter ones figured out what his action meant. They were either quite insulted that they had not been brought into his confidence in planning the attack, or fearful that they might have been among those who would not have been favored with either an awakening spell or a stasis spell.

As much as he now truly hated the traitors, he had to admit that they had been among his most valuable Death Eaters. Severus always had remarkable insight and offered sage advice, to say nothing of the man's absolute genius at potions. Lucius was a font of information, having agents and spies literally everywhere.

And now, here he was, reduced to getting important news from the Daily Prophet, of all miserable sources, and not even complete or current information at that!

With a sigh of irritation and a slowly-developing headache (another point of anger at Severus, who had brewed the only potion he'd ever had that could stop one of these headaches as soon as there was any sign a headache was coming), Voldemort stood and stormed off to his study.

His plans were just not going well. He had been so confident of his original plan that he'd made no effort to build any alliances, and he was having difficulty finding allies. The kind of war it now appeared that he'd have to wage would require people or creatures willing to fight for him and those seemed to be in short supply. The trolls always said yes to requests that they support his cause, but who trusted trolls? The question of the missing vampire clans was solved when Voldemort learned that they'd been cured – there were no more clans.  
This was proving to be a much slower process than he'd hoped.

The Daily Prophet mentioned that the muggles were likely to be awakening in the next week or two. Voldemort had truly hoped to have conquered the wizarding world before the muggles were part of the equation. That wasn't going to happen. Maybe there was some way that the muggles being awake could work into a strategy that would help him against the rest of the wizarding world? An interesting thought – he'd have to spend some time looking at that tonight.

[A/N It was pointed out to me, by readers who are absolutely right and have much better memories than I do, that I made a mistake in the prior chapter. There is a very brief reference in Chapter 22 of The Marriage Stone to the fact that Harry had begun to invite Ron and Hermione to his rooms to study in the evenings in mid-October. Thus, the visit with which I ended the last chapter could not have been Ron's and Hermione's first visit to the rooms Harry shared with Severus. I have decided not to rewrite my chapter. I like the description of that first visit, whenever it occurred, and hope no one minds the license I took here.]


	36. Ch 113 Last Days of Quiet

Chapter 113 – Last Days of Quiet

Breakfast on Friday morning had not been as bad as Harry feared. The only new information in the morning edition of the Daily Prophet about the attack at the Ministry was that Severus Snape had not, in fact, died. Everyone in the castle already knew that, as he'd been at dinner the night before. Harry got no more than the usual number of funny looks and was relieved; he'd endured far worse scrutiny many times before.

"Have you seen Madam Pomfrey this morning?" Hermione immediately wanted to know. "You do look much more rested and calm today."

"She told Severus and me to come to the Infirmary after breakfast. We were both instructed to get at least 10 hours of sleep last night – she threatened to admit him to the Infirmary and give him a potion to make him sleep 24 hours straight, if he didn't," Harry offered with a small chuckle.

"Were you alright last night? I wasn't entirely certain what was going on, but it certainly looked like Ron and I needed to leave."

Harry blushed slightly. As pleasant as it had been to spend time sitting on Severus' lap, the reason for his distress and later need for comfort from Severus was still upsetting to him. He spoke softly so only Hermione could hear him. "The things he said about my magic last night really frightened me."

"You're OK now?"

"Yeah. I guess I'm still frightened, but Severus assured me that it will all work out, and I'll be fine. Sometimes, he's really good that way," Harry concluded, with a small smile.

Ron and Seamus interrupted Harry's and Hermione's quiet conversation. "We're going to go flying down by the lake, Harry, want to join us?"

Harry's eyes lit up. He would love to join them. Flying always took away his worries and cares – zooming about in the sky, free from all the nonsense that had invaded his life lately. "I'd love to but I don't know. I have to see Madam Pomfrey after breakfast, and I'm not sure what that'll entail. If I can, I'll join you later, then."

His two friends seemed satisfied with that answer. Harry joined in the noisy chatter swirling around him until he saw Severus stand and head to the exit behind the Head Table.

"Uh, oh. Severus is leaving, so I'd better get going. We're both supposed to head to the Infirmary when we're done here. I'll see you guys later," Harry said as he stepped over the bench on which he'd been sitting. He hurried out, hoping he could catch up with Severus before he got to the Infirmary.

Harry needn't have worried; Severus was waiting for him in the corridor just off the entry to the Great Hall, so they connected almost as soon as Harry was out of the Great Hall.

Madam Pomfrey's detailed scans revealed that Severus had gotten ten hours and seventeen minutes of sleep, a fact duly noted and for which he got an approving smile. His magic had reformed and his magical signature was recognizable as his. His head wound had technically been healed by the time he left the Ministry Infirmary, but Madam Pomfrey remained concerned about the length of time he'd been left unconscious. She continued to fuss at him and was convinced that a small amount of healing was still needed for his skull to be completely repaired. Severus was largely inclined to ignore her, but did agree to take small doses of Skele-grow and get extra rest over the next few days.

Harry had gotten just ten hours and two minutes of sleep, but that amount satisfied Madam Pomfrey. Her scans of Harry revealed that his magical pathways were on the mend, and he was given a further dose of potions to speed that along. "I want no efforts at all to fuss with your magical pathways until they are fully healed from this last event. No working with the Headmaster, no lessons. Do you understand?" she asked, as much of Severus as of Harry.

The two were released to their own devices with the admonition that they were to report back on Sunday afternoon before all medical restrictions on their activities would be lifted.

"Honestly, that woman! " Severus muttered as the two unwilling patients exited the Infirmary with as much speed as was dignified once she released them.

Harry walked quickly to keep up with Severus' longer strides. "I wonder if the Headmaster will be up in his office now? I'd love to know if he's gotten any more information about what went on yesterday at the Ministry, or anything that connects those two Indian men to the attack."

Severus had every intention of heading right up to the Headmaster's office, but he wasn't so sure that he wanted Harry to accompany him. "You cannot begin lessons or training on your magic, with Madam Pomfrey's restrictions in place, and Merlin knows, the woman will know immediately if you've violated any of her restrictions," he replied with a meaningful glance. The precision with which she calculated the amount of sleep each had gotten the night before was not lost on either of them. "I will get whatever news from the Ministry has arrived, and share it with you later. It's a beautiful day, and it would shock me senseless if your Gryffindor friends are not out on their brooms over the lake even as we speak. Why don't you join them?"

Harry was about to argue, but realized that Severus could share information with him later, but right now it was a beautiful, sunny day and his friends were out over the lake swooping in the air. He took Severus' advice, and headed off with a smile back at his bondmate.

The Headmaster was reading a letter from a large stack on his desk when Severus arrived. With a wave of his wand, the correspondence was obscured from view as he directed his guest toward a chair near the fireplace.

"So, my boy, I understand that you and Harry are recovering nicely from your ordeals of yesterday. Good news, indeed! To what do I owe this early morning visit, Severus?"

"I've told Harry that we cannot hope to begin any training with you on wandless magic until his magical pathways are completely healed, nor can I begin work on training him to better control his magic, until Poppy removes all restrictions. For the time being, Harry was persuaded to join his friends flying over the Lake. We are both most interested in any news you may have from the Ministry, which I promised to share with Harry later."

"Ah, yes, the Daily Prophet seemed to be focused on your amazing survival this morning, and didn't have much else to say. Well, I did hear from the Minister herself, and from Auror Darmut, so I probably do have a bit more detailed and current information. The Minister is taking a long-distance portkey to Agra for the funeral rites this afternoon, and Darmut will join her. He went to school with the head of the Indian Auror organization."

Severus interrupted, "But Albus, we have absolutely nothing that actually connects your spell, the attack yesterday on me, or their deaths! Won't any questions touch off a diplomatic nightmare?"

"No, no, there is really an "Indian" angle to the investigation. Darmut's team went through Mr. John Smith's cloak and valise very carefully when they found them in Mr. Uggers' office yesterday." Albus visibly warmed to his subject: while he'd never been an Auror himself, the process of unraveling a mystery like this intrigued him greatly. "The valise was new, purchased a day ago in one of the small shops just off Diagon Alley, and it contained only yesterday's Daily Prophet. The cloak was of local manufacture, not brand new, but didn't look as if it had been worn for more than a few months. From the label, though, they discovered it had been sold here over 10 years ago. Detailed scans revealed dust and pollen from plants that don't grow in England – but that do grow in India. The suspicion is that the cloak was purchased here and brought to India, where it sat unused for years before being sold second-hand, presumably in India."

As Albus stopped for a sip of tea, Severus felt he had to comment. "The Aurors have been busy, indeed, Albus, but is this still something that would be brought to the attention of the head of their Auror organization?"

"Of course, Severus. Don't forget, this involved an attack in our Ministry offices, so our Aurors are absolutely inclined to go to the head of any similar organization in another country. Everything about this points to a suicide mission. Possibly one that might have been staged out of India. That's enough for an old friend to ask for a few moments after the funeral."

Severus nodded, a pensive look on his face. "Will anything be shared about the intention spell?"

"Not now. The Minister has told me that she'll speak to her counterpart in India if evidence arises that suggests they need to know. For now, all we plan to do is make the wizarding world aware that such things as intention spells exist in the Daily Prophet article. Let's not rule out that a foreign Auror corps might conclude that one of their leaders was killed by the effects of my intention spell and still want to keep that quiet, lest they sully the reputation of the leader after his or her death."

That last observation caught Severus' imagination. An Auror corps might well conclude that dealing with a death, especially the death of a leader, for which there seemed to be no medical explanation was preferable to dealing with one where they had to admit such a bad action by the deceased. Interesting.

Although ultimately, it was better for those bad actors to know about the spell that would kill them as they intended for him to die. He would definitely prefer to live his life without the threat of assassination hanging over his head.

"I did want to make you aware of something young Weasley told me last night. His mother heard a cracking sound when she was lying on the floor at the Ministry yesterday afternoon. We had considered that it appeared unlikely that anyone saw Harry's magical spillage, but did not discuss what others might have heard."

For the first time since he'd arrived in Albus' office, Severus felt he had told the old man something he didn't already know. The look of amusement on his face was momentarily replaced by one of concern. "Oh, my. I will need to speak to Molly about that." Severus nodded, wise enough to keep any hint of smugness off his face. "And what prompted young Weasley to share this with you?"

With an elegant lift to his eyebrows, Severus explained "Miss Granger has a research project underway for Harry. When I'd told Harry of our thoughts that he acquired some of Odin's magic when the Eye exploded in his hand, he became concerned that this was the second time he'd acquired some other wizard's magic. The first instance is believed to be his ability to speak Parseltongue, which they believe came from Voldemort."

"As do I, Severus."

"Miss Granger offered to do some research to see if she could find anything to explain why this happened, and what might he or should he do about it. Miss Granger and Weasley came to our rooms after dinner at Harry's invitation so I could tell them more about the spillage problem – Harry wondered if acquiring magic from others caused him to exceed his own capacity to manage his magic – and hear her report. She's found several cases that might involve what she calls "magical transference," and will be pursuing this with Madam Pomfrey, if more detailed medical journals are required."

Albus' look of satisfaction returned, as he contemplated where Hermione's inquiries would carry her. "Such a creative mind, that one, no, Severus? I'll mention to Poppy that Miss Granger is working on a project for Harry and if she needs access to professional journals and records and such, to provide discreet assistance."

"Any other news from the Ministry, Albus?" Severus asked. "The project with the royal princes – the message to the muggles – has that been arranged? Is Harry still to be a part of it?"

"Ah, yes. The Ministry is planning that as we speak, and Harry most definitely will be part of it. There is a group writing out what needs to be said, and another group getting ready to actually capture the speeches. The muggle royals have a castle right here in Scotland, did you know that? Balmoral, it's called. As the royal family resides there for part of the year, it has all the electrological things that one apparently requires to "tape" a message. There is a team there now, placing security wards, and checking out the possibility of connecting a fireplace there to the floo network next week. There is nothing to be done right now."

Albus momentarily looked sad. "Today we'd normally be bidding farewell to the students, Severus. No Hogwarts Express this year, I'm afraid. Only about fifty students will be joining their families elsewhere this summer, so I've gotten portkeys for them. Some are just staying on for the summer themselves, and a number of families will be arriving. I've asked Minerva and Filius to develop a summer curriculum, to keep the children busy. I expect that you and Harry will be busy enough this summer, so I did not suggest that they speak to you about any potions program." Severus snorted – he wasn't sure who would want that less: himself or the students. "We'll be announcing the program on Monday, so while most of them don't know it, this is their last completely free weekend. Leave Harry free to enjoy the weekend with his friends. You rest up, as well. We'll be busy enough once next week starts."

For once, Severus took the Headmaster's suggestion without an argument.

Severus had brewing to do, and the prospect of having the dungeons to himself was as welcome to him as the day outside on the lawn was to the others. He spent just a few minutes at his desk, dispatching a message to Gringotts to request that a curse-breaking team be dispatched to begin work on Snape Manor, and then consulting with a house elf about the items that he wished to have brought to stock his small kitchen, things he would need should he have the opportunity to cook dinner with Harry. He finally, happily, disappeared into his lab.

Friday set the tone for the entire weekend. Because the early summer weather was particularly beautiful, most of the castle inhabitants were outdoors, flying, wandering, and a few brave souls even went swimming in the lake. Students and their families mixed with squibs, and even the Winter Land warriors and some of their families joined in.

The house elves set up large tents to give those who preferred it some shade, and provided tables laden with cool beverages, samovars dispensing tea and picnic lunches. The large group would not have to interrupt their day on the lawn or by the lake to go inside for lunch, and most stayed out for supper as well.

Even the animals participated in the impromptu celebration of the summer. Several unicorns left Dark Forest to frolic at the shore of the lake, to the infinite delight of the children (and more than a few adults). The giant squid even got in on the fun, occasionally squirting water in a plume into the sky, in which the flyers on brooms frolicked.

A few of the Hogwarts professors joined in. Madam Hooch was a constant presence, as she kept order in the sky. Professor Sprout supervised activities under the big tent, and Hagrid stayed by the shore of the lake, his enormous trouser legs rolled up to his knees, to be sure all the swimmers remained safe. Others stopped by for short periods, mostly taking breaks from their other tasks.

The days were long at this time of year, too, with daylight lasting until well past bedtime for many of the youngsters. On Friday, Harry did not go back inside until it was nine o'clock, still light enough for games, but he was worried about Severus. He had taken his meal breaks in his lab; the house elves were not going to allow him to skip a meal as long as he was regarded as under Madam Pomfrey's care. Harry found him still engrossed in his brewing, but quite willing to call it a day when Harry pointed out the time.

The other days of the weekend passed just as Friday did, except for the fact that Harry came back to the dungeons much earlier on Saturday to cook dinner with Severus. His attempts to seduce Severus were for naught, but the food was delicious.

When Severus and Harry presented themselves in the Infirmary late Sunday afternoon, Madam Pomfrey was impressed, indeed. She'd never had Severus adhere to any of the restrictions she requested before when he was under her care, and while she wasn't sure if it was the threat of being kept in the Infirmary for at least 24 hours or Harry's influence, she wasn't complaining. Harry was also magically rested, although from the windblown look of him, he had gotten a full measure of fresh air along with the others outside all weekend.

After her scans were complete, she sat with both of them in her office, beaming in approval. "Congratulations, gentlemen! You obviously complied with the restrictions I imposed, and you are both much the better for it. Professor Snape, your head wound is fully healed; I imagine that you've not experienced any headaches this weekend?" Severus nodded in response – he hadn't noticed, but now that she mentioned it, he felt quite fine all weekend.

"And Mr. Potter, your magical pathways are as solid as they ought to be. While I still have serious reservations about anyone your age even contemplating wandless magic, I understand your unusual situation. I am sure with the careful tutelage of Professor Snape and the Headmaster, you will be safe."

Once again, Harry and Severus retreated as quickly as dignity allowed, both glad to be free of the restraints the mediwitch had imposed but secretly relieved that they were found to be in fine health.

Severus suffered a most uncharacteristic lapse in attention as he walked along with Harry. As they chatted idly, Harry had them heading out the front door of the castle and down the lawn toward the shore of the lake, where the house elves had been serving the evening meals all weekend. It wasn't until it was too late to reverse course and head back into the castle without attracting attention that Severus realized he and Harry had arrived in the picnic area and dinner was already underway.

Severus had hated informal meals for as long as he could remember. A seated dinner was one thing; even as he youngster, he had a place to be and could keep up a conversation with the two people seated to either side of him. He could handle receptions, where he either attended with someone and thus had someone to speak to, or he lurked at the perimeter and disappeared after a short while. At Hogwarts, there were usually separate and more formal arrangements made for adults. Even at that horrid Yule Ball, he'd had a place at the Head Table, and was able to escape under the guise of making certain that students were behaving themselves in the courtyard when the meal was over. What on earth was he supposed to do here?

Harry was blithely heading along to the tables where the food was set out, and selected two plates, handing one over to Severus. Severus accepted it and followed along, desperately looking for clues as to what the other professors were doing in this setting – were they all at one table? Had they all remained back in the castle and dined in their rooms, or in the Great Hall? He couldn't immediately spot any of his colleagues. Worst case, and it would be worst for him, he'd eat standing up and escape back to the castle as quickly as he could.

Harry wasn't engaging in any such inner dialog; he was loading up his own and his bondmate's plates with food as they passed along the table, and despite the fact that it was most uncommon for a professor to sit with students at meals, it was clear that Harry did indeed expect for them to dine together. When their plates could hold not a morsel more, Harry spotted a table. "Come on, Severus, there's space over there, by the trees."

Severus could not see an empty table, but he followed along, realizing that Harry was directing them to a table already occupied by several of Harry's Gryffindor friends, assorted members of the Weasley family, Draco, and the two squib princes. Despite his general discomfort with such . . . eclectic . . seating arrangements, Severus had no choice and took the seat next to Harry as the young man had clearly intended.

In short order, they learned that Charlie Weasley had a weekend off from the dragon preserve in Romania and had flooed to Hogwarts to see Draco, of course, and his parents after their adventure at the Ministry. The twins had heard that Charlie was coming in, so they flooed in from Diagon Alley, and were currently entertaining their end of the table with some of their newest inventions, explaining the enlarged, flapping ears, orange hair and steam coming from the nostrils of the people sitting with them. Ron wanted to visit with his brothers, and of course, Hermione sat with him. Neville and Seamus had followed along with them. The younger of the princes had worked in the greenhouses for a time. He'd gotten to know Neville, who still had no idea who he was but liked the prince's way with plants, so he and his older brother sat with Neville.

For the first time, and much to Severus' surprise, Neville weathered proximity to Severus without a look of panic on his face, even though Severus had taken the seat directly across the table from him. Severus took what he admitted was the cowardly approach, and avoided small talk by starting in on his meal as soon as he was seated and had exchanged greetings with the others at the table. It was a night of surprises when Neville was the one who began a conversation.

"Professor, I've spent some time up in the Winter Lands, and they showed me another of their strange plants – a magical tipitiwitchit."

Noticing Severus' immediate look of alarm, Neville smiled shyly. "No, no, don't worry, I didn't bring it here. It's a very dangerous plant, and it's huge. It eats deer, wild pigs, and the herbalist who brought me to see it said that these plants have been known to eat children who wander too close. Anyway, she told me that she harvests its digestive enzymes and some small bits of plants for the healers up there to use as potion ingredients, and she offered to send some down to you. I mentioned this to Professor Sprout, and we looked tipitiwitchits up in one of her old reference books. The leaves in particular have very unusual properties, not too unlike your roses. I'll send the reference book to you to review; if you think these ingredients would be of interest, I would be glad to bring some leaves and enzymes back next time I go up there."

Severus felt he did an admirable job of hiding his shock that the young man he'd always regarded as a scared rabbit had been busy sourcing exotic potions ingredients for him. "Thank you, Mr. Longbottom. I was not even aware that tipitiwitchets grew outside of America. I have seen the odd specimen in collections, but they were always very small, so this sounds most interesting. I will look at the reference book if you'd have a house elf bring it to my quarters. It is not everyday that a potions ingredient I've never encountered before comes to my attention, so I would appreciate the chance to explore the uses to which we might put the ingredients whenever you are able to bring them back."

"No problem at all. I expect to be going up there some time this week, or by next weekend, at the latest, and I'm sure she'll have some handy. She'll be very flattered that you are interested in the ingredient she offered."

None of the other conversations Severus had were as interesting as the exchange with Neville, although Harry was having a fine time gossiping and laughing with his friends. He'd enjoyed the last several days, removed from all the pressures and nonsense that went along with his current role in life, flying and swooping and generally behaving like a student after classes had ended. The easy banter at meals, the shared experiences and histories – Harry was glad he'd had this time to enjoy his friends.

One subject of some discussion and speculation was the awakening of the muggles, which was expected to be soon, and Harry pointed out to the princes that he had not taped anything yet; were they aware of any plans?

"We know your Ministry is working on this right now. Harry and I told them about a family castle up here in Scotland, not far from this castle apparently, and they've had a team out there all weekend. Lots of wand-waving on the lawn, and people really fussing with the fireplaces. I expect we'll be going there tomorrow or the day after, and tape it there. Your Headmaster was adamant that we were not going to do this in London, and since the family spends some time at this castle every year, it has a pretty comprehensive television studio on site." Wills looked at his younger brother, as if to invite him to chime in if he'd heard anything else about this.

The younger prince just added "We were invited to spend today here, so I expect we'll be going to Balmoral Castle tomorrow."

Not too long after that, making eye contact with Severus, Harry announced "Well, it was great to see everyone. Severus and I have to check in with the Headmaster, so we'll be heading back to the castle now."

As they were welcomed into the office, directed to seats and offered lemon drops, Harry found his mind drifting back to the conversation he'd had in the Winter Lands at Christmas, about how difficult it was for most of the wizarding world to secure an appointment with Professor Dumbledore; he felt momentarily discomfited by this reminder of his place in the world. That was reinforced when the Headmaster began to brief him and Severus on the things planned for the coming week.

"We've installed a secure floo connection between my office and Balmoral Castle; it's warded and protected by passwords," he began, looking at Harry. "Teams of Aurors have been in place at Balmoral all weekend, securing the location and making it ready for you and the princes to tape your message tomorrow."

"Thank you, sir. We sat with the princes at dinner on the lawn, and they told us they expected we'd be taping tomorrow. You said we'd not do this in London?"

Albus was a bit surprised that Harry would even consider returning to the Ministry or to any other location in London; he had expressed his concern anticipating how Harry would feel. It turned out that it was Severus who appreciated the sentiment. "I am glad to hear that we'll be avoiding crowded places, like the Ministry or London itself," he volunteered. "I'm sure a Scottish castle, that's been secured and warded, is a better location."

"And the Ministry advises that we'll be needing this message very soon. The staff at St. Mungos has been monitoring the muggles they are tending, and report that it appears that the spell is weakening. Muggles might begin awakening this very week!"

Harry was pleased to hear that. "Do they expect the muggles to waken all at once? What do they expect?"

"The Ministry is preparing for them to awaken all at once, just as they all went to sleep. But as I understand it, at least some of the mediwizards are speculating that given differences in age, body mass, nearness to the source of the spell when it was cast, things of that sort, they could awaken at different times. That adds a layer of complexity, I'm afraid. Panic could ensue."

Severus was not particularly looking forward to whatever mass muggle panic would look like, but there was nothing to be done about this. "Let us hope the awakenings go smoothly, then. There's nothing we can do about it, in any event."

X X X X X X X X X X

The morning was clear and crisp as Harry and the two princes, accompanied by Severus and the Headmaster, stepped through the floo in the Headmaster's office and emerged in an enormous fireplace that seemed to be part of the kitchens of the castle.

A flustered-looking Ministry functionary was there to greet them. "I apologize for your arrival in the kitchen. We thought that the fireplace in the drawing room could be adjusted to accommodate a floo connection, but the ancient stones here are just not as receptive to spells. They might have been charmed at some point. This was the only fireplace that could safely serve for use as a floo."

Albus waved off the apologies, and the princes, familiar with the place, led the group up the back stairs through to the front parlor. Space for the media had been created in a small room off the entry to keep the press in a contained space. When a royal message needed to be taped, the front parlor was convenient to the equipment and presented a homey scene; as a result of some of the messages, most of world had seen part of this room already, another familiar aspect.

The room itself had been prepared, with several chairs grouped to one side. Cameras were set up in front of them, capturing the speakers as well as a view of part of the room and out the window into the countryside beyond. A number of Ministry people, including the Minister herself and the Head of the Department of Explanations, were already in the room, milling about with cups of tea. They immediately grouped around the new arrivals, welcoming them. The wizards all seemed to be particularly taken with the cameras and the teleprompter.

The princes knew from experience how to deliver televised messages using the teleprompter, and they quickly coached Harry on the process. Once Harry had learned the knack of reading his lines without appearing to be reading them, it was time to record.

A man in his early thirties stepped in front of the camera. He was a bit paunchy and slightly balding, with what hair he had pulled into a frizzy ponytail that went a good way down his back. "Good morning, sirs. My name is George Barker. I'm an assistant producer with the BBC, but I've never directed the camera work for anything like this. We pulled together a crew of folks who were awakened from the sleeping spell, and we can definitely do this, but it's not going to be as fancy as you all might be accustomed to. Our usual directors and editors are all still asleep, unfortunately. We'll just use the one camera," George said as he pointed to the large device held steady on a tripod. "You will all be on-camera at all times. You each have a teleprompter and we've synched the scripts. Let's do a run-through first, and then we'll start taping."

The princes were not flustered by the unusual protocol at all, and followed along easily with George's suggestion. Harry, having no experience at all with any of this, took his cue from the others, and eased into the experience. After a couple of run-throughs to test the script, allow for a few spot adjustments, and find opportunities for the personalities of the three young men to come through, they were ready.

Wills spoke first, introducing himself and the others, leaning forward a bit as he began to speak.

"We want to tell you about extraordinary events that have occurred. On April 16, just as many of you were about to sit down to dinner, or just getting home from work, something terrible happened. Every human being in the world fell asleep. Just like that, we were all out cold. A few moments later, some of us were awakened. What we found was frightening. Everyone else was still asleep, and nothing we did could rouse them. My brother and I were awakened, but the rest of our family was asleep. We called the Prime Minister's office, and found someone there who had awakened, and he came to help us. That was our introduction to a most unexpected and amazing world."

"We have learned that magic is real. It does exist, and there are witches and wizards in the world who can do the most amazing things. When we were awakened, my brother and I both experienced the sense that our names were being called by someone; that's what woke us. We had no idea who had called to us, but we've since found out. Every once in a great while, a witch or wizard is recognized in the magical world as its King, and we learned that the young man who woke us is the King of the entire magical world. He happens to be a Brit, and we'd like to introduce him to you. This is Harry Potter."

With a visible gulp, Harry Potter now leaned forward a bit and took up the story. "Thanks, sir. Before I tell the story about what happened here, I want to stress something you said. Every _human being_ in the world fell asleep. This is not really about magic, it's about human beings. Keep that in mind. I grew up in the non-magical world, in Surrey, and did not even realize that magic was real or that I was a wizard until I was eleven, when I was invited to attend a school that teaches witchcraft and wizardry. Just as we all know that there are good and bad non-magical people, I learned that there are good and bad witches and wizards."

Harry went on to tell the story of the bad and powerful wizard who had sent a spell into the world that put all human beings to sleep, presumably intending to waken on those who had his favor. His sleeping spell would kill everyone else, as they would have slept for a very long time, and died of dehydration long before they woke. Harry told of his own effort to waken everyone who had been put to sleep, but finding that he could only waken people with magic in them. Even the smallest bit of magic would do, but without that, he could not waken them.

"Once our healers had a chance to study the spell that was cast, they recognized it as one that was impossible to break unless the person under the spell had magic, so we knew we could not wake non-magical people. We did the next best thing – we developed and cast a second spell to preserve the people who remained asleep until the sleeping spell wore off on its own. We've done out best since then to take care of your world until you all woke up. We've used magic to tend to farms, keep animals and pets fed and watered, keep your electric grid up and running. You'll probably have a few days before grocery shelves are filled again, but we were able to preserve the food in your pantries and refrigerators."

The other Harry took the story now. "It's not all good news, unfortunately. Some people, both magical and non-magical, were in the midst of doing things that were not safely interrupted by even a few moments of sleep, let alone an extended sleep, so there were some terrible accidents. Planes and automobiles crashed, fires raged, there were calamities. As Harry said, the magical people found a way to keep non-magical people safe as they slept off the spell, but many people, both magical and non-magical, did not survive the onset of the sleeping spell. So, there are changes in our world – people did die, some structures were damaged and not everything was able to be restored to its prior status. The magical people have promised to continue to work with us to fix what we can before they return to their own lives, but I want everyone to understand that there are changes."

Wills ended the announcement. "My brother and I were awakened because we have a small bit of magic in us; we can't use magic, but the small bit is there. We have learned that about ten percent of the population in the world has some magic, ranging from my brother and I with the merest bit, to people with great amounts of magic. As I said, and as Harry Potter amplified, this is not about people with or without magic – it's about human beings, some of whom do bad things. We wish everyone good luck as we get back to our day-to-day lives now."

The taping stopped for a few minutes, as people huddled around television monitors and spoke in hushed tones. Severus and the Headmaster had stayed on the periphery with the Minister and her Department Head, but they were among those invited to have a look at the monitors. Severus seemed rather interested in the process, but Albus looked like a young child opening his gifts on Christmas morning, the very picture of nearly uncontained excitement.

George requested that the three young men go through the script twice more on camera, although eventually it was decided that the first take captured more emotion and was the version of the message that would be used. Wills was asked to tape additional versions of the concluding lines, so he could tell people what date it was. The plan was to splice the different endings onto the message so that it carried that important information, no matter what date the message was actually being aired. It was still not known if the muggles would all awaken at once, or if this was something that would occur over several days, and the BBC planned to run this message through the entire period that people were awakening.

The Minister herself spoke to George before she left. "Mr. Barker, we've been in regular contact with the wizarding governments across the world, and I mentioned to several that we were working with people such as yourself to create this message. They asked if they might have this message to present when their muggle citizens awaken. Could this be shared?"

"Yes, Madam Minister. I don't have the usual translators available." It was clear from the Minister's puzzled expression that she wasn't entirely sure what that meant, so he explained further. "We employ people who speak multiple languages, and they provide either typed words that we put at the bottom of the screen to express what is said in a different language, or they speak the words in a different language and we replace the original voices. Our translators are asleep."

The Minister still wasn't entirely sure what that all meant, but she did gather that it had to do with the fact that the message just taped was in English, and not everyone spoke English. "How can we make arrangements for this to be shared, then?"

George thought for a second, and then produced a small card from his pocket, and wrote a string of numbers on the back. "This is my cell phone number." To illustrate, he extracted a small mechanical device from the same pocket. "Pass that number along to others who need the message in their countries and can work with their television and technology. They will be able to run this on televisions as well as computers, you know. I'll make arrangements to send the message to them."

Everyone but the technicians headed down to the kitchens, back to the fireplace that was connected to the floo network. It was a pleasant surprise to find a large spread of food set out on the table; the Hogwarts house elves had used the connection to locate this castle and provided lunch, as it was lunch time. There was a delay for lunch, before, one by one, everyone stepped through the floo.

The technicians did their best to create a series of messages that could be played continuously and loaded them into the BBC computers. The first message announced that the current date was July 3, which was today. The young men checked that the message was working properly, and cued up to switch to the next message at midnight each day for the next two weeks, unless the cycle was interrupted. The cycle could stop the day after the muggles awoke, at which time, the BBC would turn to live reporting.

It turned out that the messages were recorded just in time. The muggles were about to awaken.


	37. Ch 114 Rude Awakenings

Chapter 114 – Rude Awakenings

A modern-day shepherd in the American west, Sam had fallen asleep when the spell hit him over two months ago as he prepared his midday meal. He was in the little hut that served as shelter when he had his flock up in what would become their summer pasture. His blue eyes blinked open, and he experienced a few moments of disorientation.

Why was he sleeping on the floor, rather than the small shelf built into the wall opposite the door to the hut? That was where he usually spread his bedroll, at least until the warm weather of summer arrived and it was possible to sleep under the stars. And speaking of summer, why was it so warm all of a sudden? It had just snowed this morning, as he'd been a bit early to reach this high-altitude pasture with his sheep. His last memory was of fixing lunch; why had he fallen asleep in the middle of the day?

The young man slowly sat up and looked around him. The supplies he had brought up with him were all there, on shelves affixed high up the wall to make them less accessible to wild animals. Everything seemed to be as it had been, except for the fact that he was suddenly dressed far too warmly for the weather. Sam stood and shed the warm jacket, and then pulled the heavy sweater he'd been wearing over his shaggy light brown hair. Clad now only in a t-shirt, well-worn blue jeans and his boots, he went to the door to see if his animals were alright. His horse was lazily munching on some hay not too far from the door, which was remarkably lucky, given that it appeared that he'd gotten free from the reins that had tethered him near the hut.

As he stepped out of the hut to greet his horse and reaffix the tether, he was stunned to see clear evidence of early summer all around him, even this far above the tree line. The meadow just a short distance away was a riot of color as wildflowers were in full bloom, where there had been a heavy dusting of snow when he'd gone into the hut for some beans just a few minutes ago.

What really brought him up short was the sight of his sheep out in that meadow. He stumbled over to the edge of the meadow for a better look. The sheep had all been shorn before he took them to the summer pasture, and the late spring snowfall had been of concern because their bodies no longer had the protection of their heavy coats of wool. Sam quickly counted and found them all there; actually, it seemed some lambing had occurred, because there were at least three lambs out there. The lambs were young but not newborn, and the sheep themselves were clearly no longer recently shorn – their wool had begun growing.

The shepherd was really shaken by what he saw, and he retreated back to the small camp he'd set up around the year-round hut. He grabbed a canteen and went to sit on one of the rocky outcroppings that had always been one of his favorite spots to keep an eye on the flock, to try to sort this all out. He took a sniff of the contents of the canteen before taking a sip of water, fearing that the water might have gone bad or rank on him; maybe that was what caused . . . well, whatever this was. The water smelled fresh, and a cautious sip confirmed that it was as fresh as when he'd gotten it from the stream just that morning, except now Sam was starting to think, maybe it wasn't just that morning.

The animals all looked fine – healthy, fed, watered. Of course, he chose this remote pasture because it was a reliable source of grasses and had ample water nearby. As he thought on it, and pushed his confusion aside, he realized that he himself felt just fine, too. He wasn't terribly hungry or thirsty, and his clothes fit him just as they had when he last had memory; he hadn't been starving. He carefully checked his head – had something happened that caused him to black out? He felt no bumps or soreness, but also realized that if he'd become ill, or fallen and hit his head, and remained unconscious for the time it took for spring to become summer, he'd be dead by now.

Maybe he'd hit his head, and just lost memory of a time? He might have been functioning, tending to his flock and horse, taking care of himself, but for some reason, he simply now had no memory of the months that had passed? That answered some of his questions, but did not explain that he was wearing the exact same clothes he last remembered having on, and it was now clearly too warm to be wearing them. It also did not explain why his food stores were exactly as he remembered them; he did not seem to have eaten from them since he was last awake.

He sat on the stone and watched his flock for many hours that day, and never did come up with an explanation of what might have happened. With a deep breath, he finally decided to just get on with the summer. He had no idea how it had come to be late June or maybe even early July, when last he knew, it had been April, but everything here at his camp seemed to be just fine. Why go looking for trouble?

He momentarily wished this camp was closer to a town or something; he did not get cell phone service up here, and he could not afford to herd the flock back down the mountain now, losing his summer wages. Besides, the sheep had food and water up here, while their wool grew longer; down off the mountain, the wool crop would be lost and most of the sheep would be sold for slaughter rather than maintained for the entire summer.

Sam was puzzled and confused, but he decided to stay where he was. This was the best place for him; he'd just pick up and carry on. Everything would be OK.

X X X X X X X X X X

Melinda blinked her eyes open, surprised to find herself sprawled on her kitchen floor, right by her sink. She had been looking out the window right above the sink, watching her husband play with the kids on the swing set in the yard. Bradley had gotten home from work a few minutes early, and gone straight to the backyard when he'd heard Brad Jr. and the twins, Emily and Emma, squealing as they played on the swings and teeter-totter. Why on earth was she on the floor?

She cautiously stood up, and looked into the yard, searching for her family. Bradley was kneeling by the swing set, looking incredibly disheveled and almost soiled, and the children were all clinging to him, looking equally messy. She immediately ran to the door, her auburn hair streaming behind her. Melinda's focus on assuring herself that her husband and three children were well enabled her to ignore all the many things that were wrong with the world. It wasn't until she had held each child in turn and determined that they were well if quite dirty, and then did the same with the love of her life, her Bradley, that her awareness of everything else reached the point where she could react.

She had insisted that the children wear sweaters when they said they wanted to wait outside for their father to come home, but it was very warm now. The sun was wrong, much too strong and the wrong angle for April. And then she saw her prized rosebushes, the most glorious roses in all of Little Hangleton. They had just been starting to leaf out, after she'd spent several days gently removing the mulch under which they'd spent the winter. They were in full bloom now. How on earth could that be?

Melinda took a closer look at Bradley. He looked as healthy and handsome as ever, but his clothes – what had happened to them? They looked sodden, and even faded out in places. And that was his good suit! The children were the same. Their cheeks were pink, and they looked well-fed and rested, but their clothes had bits of wilted flowers and leaves stuck to them. The remains of what looked like the azaleas from along the back fence were on all the children, but the azaleas weren't going to bloom for another week or two – how could their fallen blooms be on the children?

Bradley was conducting the same inventory, and clearly becoming as puzzled as Melinda was. "Come along, little ones, let's go into the house," he urged. He wasn't at all sure what was happening, but it certainly seemed prudent to get his family into the safety of their home, and he wanted to get out of the sodden suit that hung uncomfortably from his lanky frame.

Melinda led the children into their room and helped the little girls get out of their oddly soiled and sun-faded clothes and into fresh things. Brad Jr. was able to change himself, and he handed his mother his soggy clothes. She stared at the three piles of clothes that had been fresh and pressed when the children set out just a few hours ago. How could they look too soiled for even her most careful laundering, and too worn to even go into the charity bag? She wadded them all up and deposited them in the garbage bin near the back door.

That was when she noticed the thin layer of dust all over the kitchen counters and table. She wiped those down multiple times every day, but she could clearly see her own handprint in the dust, from where she'd rested her hand as she looked out into the backyard after she stood up. Now alerted to the dust, she looked through the kitchen, and saw that even the leaves of her plants bore a layer of dust, although on inspection, they appeared to have been watered.

Bradley had gone into the master bedroom and had flicked on the television as he stripped out of his ruined suit and changed into some dry jeans and a fresh t-shirt. He had taken a seat at the end of the bed to watch the news, surprised to see the two princes addressing the nation. That was unusual enough to catch his eye, but the message they were sharing, they and another young man with unruly dark hair and bright green eyes, left Bradley absolutely dumbfounded.

Melinda and the children found Bradley still sitting on the bed, watching a loop of this announcement for the second time. He looked up at them as they gathered around him.

"I don't know if this is some kind of hoax, or prank, or what. The princes are saying its July 2, but it was just April. They say this is all the result of magic, both us all being asleep for over two months, and being fine now as we've woken." Melinda was as stunned as her husband, and settled in numbly beside him to watch the announcement for herself, not knowing what to think or do. The children would have preferred to watch cartoons, and after a few minutes, they lost interest and began to jump on the bed behind their parents. Bradley and Melinda continued to sit mute, shaking their heads every once in a while in disbelief.

Finally, Melinda realized that it was dinnertime. The message from the princes said that their food should be fine to eat. Everyone joined her in the now-dusted kitchen, and they each inspected the different items she retrieved from the fridge to prepare dinner. The meat and vegetables all smelled fresh, and she was quite surprised to find that even the milk was still drinkable. It took just a few minutes for her to get dinner assembled and into the oven, where it would need at least half an hour to cook.

Brad Jr. and the girls were ready to go back out onto the swing set. Bradley nodded his approval, and Melinda took up her usual spot to supervise from the window by the sink. Bradley spoke softly to his wife. "I'm going to take a quick walk up the street, to see if everyone else has woken up, and if they are OK," he said.

Bradley had worked as an estate agent in Little Hangleton for the past five years, and knew just about everyone in town. He also volunteered with the local ambulance service, so he'd had more than the basic first aid training. Melinda gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and whispered "Be careful." With a nod, Bradley headed out from their home, walking along the quiet street that passed in front of the house, walking toward the town, and away from the looming Riddle Mansion at the far end of the road.

This part of the street looked like it did most evenings in early summer. A few children were in the yards playing while parents got dinner ready, a dog here and there joined in chasing Frisbees or sticks, a few adults were visiting with neighbors over the fences separating their yards. Bradley stopped to chat with a few of his nearest neighbors, but after confirming that they were all fine, and just as puzzled by everything as he and Melinda were, he pressed on, toward the larger street that went directly into the small village.

Things were not so fine as Bradley got nearer to the village.

As he walked, he heard a baby crying, and went a few steps into the woods by the road to investigate. He found a slightly banged-up pram tipped on its side, and a small baby who had just awoken from its sleep in the shelter of the fallen pram. Bradley righted the pram, adjusting a dented axel to allow it to continue to be pushed, and settled the baby back in as he lifted it back onto the road. There was what looked like a diaper bag that had been under the pram, and he found a bottle for the baby. A sniff indicated it was still fresh, so he offered it to the squalling baby, who accepted it contentedly as the evening stroll continued.

There was a car smashed against a tree a bit farther on, possibly the car that had struck the pram? Bradley investigated, and found the driver groggily trying to get himself out of the front seat. He'd apparently been protected when the airbag went off, but the car was a total wreck, and the driver's door was not going to open any time soon. Bradley recognized Phil – he'd sold Phil and his wife Helen their home just a few blocks from here. He helped guide Phil through to the passenger's side, and helped him climb out the broken window on that side. Phil was fine, but became frantic when he realized that Helen was no longer seated in the passenger's seat. There was something that might be blood pooled under the seat.

"Look, Phil, something really strange has happened. Get to a telly. They are running announcements from the two princes about what went on. They are saying it's already July, not April anymore. If I see Helen, I'll tell her you're looking for her. Maybe she's already walked home." Bradley wasn't sure what to believe, but Helen certainly wasn't here, which had to be a good sign. Phil needed to go look for her.

The next block brought into view the charred remains of what had been the Carter home. His training and instincts had Bradley putting the pram safely on the walk and sprinting to the home, in case someone needed help, but as he neared the ruins, he realized from the spell that this fire had occurred some time ago. The air was clear, not smoky, and no heat emanated from the charred wood and heat-crumbled bricks. Still, he had to check, to be sure.

"Is anyone in there? Caroline? Harold? Are you here?" Bradley called out. He'd handled the Carter's purchase of this home just over five years ago, his first sale after getting his license and starting his career as an estate agent. Caroline and Harold and their children – Bradley thought there were three, but there might be more now – were so excited to move into this lovely old home, with magnificent flowering shrubs and towering trees. The house was nearly just a shell at this point, and the shrubs were not all dead, but very deformed from the effects of the fire. Only the towering trees remained, although he saw signs of fire damage on the sides that faced the house.

At least one question was answered as Bradley walked around the Carter house, still looking for someone he could help. A car had veered off the road and crashed into the opposite side of the house. All indications were that the car had exploded on impact, and the fireball had ignited the house. But no one came to help them! There was no sign that firefighters had been here, no evidence of the axes used to break down doors or walls, no evidence of the damage caused by water pumped out under pressure. There was a fire hydrant right in front of the property, and the flower bed surrounding it showed no sign of having been trampled. And most oddly, there was no one, no remains, in the car.

Bradley came across several more car crashes as he pushed on to the village itself, but the drivers and passengers were getting themselves out and all seemed to be fine. He told everyone who asked him what had happened to turn on the television and see the announcement that the princes had taped. He had no information other than that, and frankly, the explanation that was offered for what had gone on was too bizarre for him to hope to repeat it to anyone. Several people joined him in his walk into the village. At times like this, the pub was likely to be the best place to connect with others and get the most current news, and The Dented Plowshare was just up the road a piece.

The barman at The Dented Plowshare had woken a short while ago, shocked to find himself asleep behind his bar, of all places, and there were several patrons gingerly picking themselves up from the floor where they'd fallen off their barstools. Everyone was apparently fine, and the barman put on the television over the bar to see if there was anything on the news. By the time Bradley and the people who'd joined him arrived at the pub, it held a good-sized crowd, milling about, with a buzz of conversation as people discussed the astonishing news that was still playing as the prince's message repeated itself.

It seemed that Helen was not the only person who could not be located. Several people in the pub were very anxiously asking after family and friends. When Bradley pushed the pram into the room, a young couple immediately approached, and cried in relief upon seeing their infant daughter. "Did you see Mrs. Gallagher with her? She was babysitting Amanda, and they usually went for a walk right before we got home from work. We were frantic when we woke up and neither Mrs. Gallagher nor Amanda was there," the young mother asked.

All Bradley could do was shrug. The baby, Amanda had been alone. "No, ma'am. The little one was sleeping in the overturned pram. I did not see anyone nearby."

At that very moment, a big barn owl was swooping over the nearby woods toward the village of Little Hangleton.

The British Ministry of Magic had maintained meticulous records of all the muggles its teams of Ministry workers and volunteers had moved, either because the muggles were sleeping in places that might subject them to danger while they slept, or because they were injured and needed treatment, or because they had died in the aftermath of the sleeping spell. In some cases, the Ministry was able to determine the names of the muggles. In many other cases, it just knew the location and circumstances under which the teams had found the person. A master list was maintained at the Ministry in London. While wizards were waiting to help people in the cities and larger towns, the decision had been made to handle the numerous small towns and villages differently. Charmed quills produced lists that captured the names or identifying information of all muggles organized by the village from which they'd been moved, and owls were on their way right now to deliver the parchments with the village lists to all the publicans and clergy in each village.

The people in The Dented Plowshare were startled and a bit frightened when a big barn owl swooped into the bar, but the owl seemed to know exactly what it was doing. It landed on the bar in front of the shaken barman, and offered its leg, to which an old-fashioned parchment was rolled up and tied. Gingerly, the man undid the twine that held the parchment, at which point the owl took flight again and left as suddenly as it had appeared.

All eyes were on the barman as he unrolled the parchment, and in the quiet that followed, interrupted only by the drone of the princes speaking on the television, he began to read.

"To the non-magical citizens of Little Hangleton:

In the aftermath of the terrible events caused by the casting of the sleeping spell of which you have now been made aware, representatives of the British Ministry of Magic visited your community. Most of you were sleeping in places deemed to be sufficiently secure, so you were left in place.

Some of your fellow citizens had been injured in the aftermath of falling asleep and required treatment, and we moved them to places where appropriate assistance could be provided. Once they were treated and well, we brought all injured non-magical citizens found within the village precincts to the nave of St. Barnabas Church, where they were left to sleep on the pews. Likewise, we moved those of your fellow citizens who fell asleep in dangerous or precarious places to the same location.

Sadly, we must also report that several of your citizens did not survive the immediate aftermath of the spell. Their remains had to be interred.

Below you will find the names or identifying information of those who were sleeping in the Church, and those who have passed away."

The barman looked around him. "There are not many names here. I'll read them off, starting with the people we can find at the Church."

As he read, there were sobs of relief, and a few whoops of joy. People began leaving the pub for the Church as soon as they heard that their loved ones were just a few blocks away, probably starting to look frantically for them. When the barman got to the list of those who had not survived, each name was met with sobs of anguish as family and friends received the news that a loved one was gone.

Bradley was shaken by the experience. It was really awful, but there was nothing he could do. After a few moments, he left the pub and headed back up the road to his family, who were just then getting the dishes on the table for dinner.

X X X X X X X X X X

At the Ministry of Magic's Infirmary, the few dozen muggles who had been moved there in the aftermath of the spell had been showing signs of awakening for a full day now. The mediwizard in charge of the care of the muggles, mostly leaders of the government and several members of the royal family, had heard from Madam Pomfrey at Hogwarts that she was observing the same thing from her charges, so it was not a great surprise on Wednesday when they began to awake.

The princes had expressed some concern to Albus Dumbledore about how their grandmother, the Queen, would react when she awoke in the unfamiliar and (to muggle sensibilities) very strange sights of the Ministry Infirmary, a week or so earlier. He had shared those thoughts with the Minister at their meeting the same afternoon.

"Really, Albus, they're that worried about the woman? She's a young thing, can't be over 70! Well, if the young men are so distressed about this, I guess they know her better than we do. I wish we still had a magical attaché to the royals, so we'd have one of our own who know them well and would be able to confirm this sort of thing. Gave that up after the big war when all the bombs fell. Pity – now we just have someone working in the Prime Minister's office. I'll speak to the head of the Infirmary and see what we can do."

"I can make some rooms available at Hogwarts, if the mediwizard agrees to send the Queen and her husband here by portkey. Our Madam Pomfrey is very confident that she and her staff can manage two more muggles, or the Ministry may wish to send along one of your own staff. The young men are quite concerned that their grandmother will become very upset, and isn't it lovely that they want to save her that discomfort?"

The Minister responded noncommittally to Albus' observation, already directing her thoughts to the next item on her long list of things to discuss with him, standing in as he still was for Harry Potter.

The very next day, after a quick consultation between the mediwizard in charge of the Ministry's Infirmary and Madam Pomfrey on behalf of the Hogwarts Infirmary, the arrangements were made. The house elves at Hogwarts created a small suite of rooms right near the Infirmary, and an auror accompanied the two older royals via portkey to Hogwarts. Kingsley Shacklebolt accepted the two new royal charges into his area of responsibility, and assisted Madam Pomfrey in getting them settled into the new rooms. The princes were advised, and prepared to visit them the next day.

When Madam Pomfrey detected that the muggles were near to awakening, she dispatched a house elf to alert the two young men, who arrived at their grandparents' rooms just an hour before they awoke. A helpful house elf had transfigured the standard bedside chairs from the infirmary into more comfortable club chairs, and the two young men were there when their grandmother's eyes first opened.

She was clearly immediately aware that she was not in her home; the grandchildren were never allowed into her bedroom while she was asleep. Where was her Lady In Waiting? Before she could get agitated, the older Prince spoke to her.

"Relax, Grandma. You are fine. We are at a special school in Scotland, and you and Grandpa are here, safe and sound. Harry and I have been here for a couple of months already, and we asked them to bring you here to be with us when you woke up. You've had a very long sleep, is all. It's a really long story, so let's wait for Grandpa to awaken, and we'll explain it all to both of you."

As if on cue, in the bed against the window, the Queen's husband stirred. She looked over and the relief that her beloved Philip was well was very clear on her face. Wills helped his grandmother sit up and get her legs over the side of the bed. He wasn't entirely certain about allowing her to stand and walk so soon after awakening from such a long sleep, but she wanted to get to her husband, so he kept a strong but gentle grip on her arm as she stood. The Queen stood firmly in her sensible shoes, and smoothed out her dress, before taking a slow step toward the bed by the window. She was fine – she tolerated her grandson's show of concern, but clearly was quite able to move on her own.

The boys moved one of the club chairs next to their grandfather's bed, but the Queen preferred to stand, where she could better see her husband's face as he cleared the cobwebs of sleep from his mind and woke up.

Before any explanations could commence, the woman the princes now knew to be the medical director of the Infirmary, flitted in. The Queen was agog – she had not seen anyone in clothing like this, the winged starched cap, belted apron, long dress, since she was a small girl. Even then the person wearing it, a nurse in a remote Welch hospital, was regarded as someone far behind the times. This woman appeared without the usual assortment of devices and clipboards that seemed to be ubiquitous in most medical establishments these days, but she had the no-nonsense mien of a family doctor. Most curious.

"Ah, yes," the little woman said to the Queen, "my alarms told me that you'd awoken. Are you feeling well? Our scans indicated that you are in fine health, but it's always prudent to be cautious, don't you agree? And the gentleman, here, also in fine health, although a bit arthritic and some constricted arteries, no? Men seem to take a few extra moments to awaken, so we'll just give him a few more minutes. If your grandfather wants to arise, young men, try to discourage him for a bit. He might be a bit woozy, not as steady on his feet as your grandmother."

With that, the woman left the room. The Queen as a bit nonplussed. Not so much as a curtsy, or any reference to herself or her grandsons as "Your Majesties." It was almost as if the little woman did not know who she was! And the nerve, leaving her and Philip to the care of their grandsons, rather than with qualified medical professionals!

Harry seemed to see where his grandmother's thoughts were heading, and he quickly intervened.

"Like Wills said, we've got an amazing story to tell you. Let's wait for Grandpa to wake up, and we'll tell you the whole thing. And you'll probably find this hard to believe, but it is very likely that Madam Pomfrey, the little lady who was just in here, has no idea who you are, aside from being a patient in her Infirmary."

X X X X X X X X X X

Word spread through the castle on Wednesday morning that it appeared that the muggles would be awakening that very day.

Professor Sprout had spoken to Petunia and the other squibs with families in the castle the day before, about their living arrangements once the families awoke. "Professor Dumbledore has secured a number of tents in which families can live together until it is safe for you to return home. We do recommend that you stay on at least a week after everyone awakens, as we don't know how long it will take the muggle world to come fully back to its former order. Food will have to be delivered to your stores, fuel will need to be shipped in, your police will need to organize, things like that. Since you are in a safe place, where there is plenty of food and such, we invite you to stay on as long as you like. You can pick up a tent from behind the greenhouses. Most of them are two and three-bedroom tents, with a few larger four and five-bedroom ones for really large families. They are furnished, very comfortable for a week or two. One of the house elves can help you assemble the one you choose, in any spot on the front lawn of the castle. I'm afraid all the courtyards are already filled."

Petunia had spent the morning selecting a nice two-bedroom tent, with two baths, a small kitchen and a very large sitting room/den, all with oversized windows. It took Professor Sprout's intervention to get a house elf to (grudgingly) help her get it set up and the wizard space activated. When it was done, it appeared from the outside to be a very ordinary camping tent, but once entered, it had all the space and comforts (except the electronic ones, of course) of a large suburban home. She wasn't entirely sure how long Vernon and Dudley would be willing to stay, if they didn't demand to be brought home as soon as they awoke. If they could stay here as a family for a few days, at least they could do so in comfort.

Petunia went up to the Infirmary straight away after lunch, and sat nervously on the wooden guest chair between her Vernon's and her Dudley's beds. It was curious – this was a big room and yet there was remarkable privacy around the various beds, more than one might have expected from the simple white linen hangings that now separated the beds.

Those were new, and hadn't been here just a week ago, when the space was an open dormitory. Probably easier to tend to everyone in a large open room, and if everyone was sound asleep, what was the need for privacy? At least she, Vernon and Dudley now had private space just beneath a looming window, from which Petunia could see the blue sky above. She would never get used to the cramped and dark feeling of the castle; the only thing that made it even remotely livable were the huge windows.

She got misty-eyed thinking about how much she'd missed her husband and her son, and how wonderful it would be for them to awaken.

It seemed like others were waking up outside their little linen-walled room. Petunia was certain that she heard people walking in the corridors, and began to get concerned. Moments after she had begun to worry in earnest, the curtains were parted slightly and the little nurse person entered. She waved her wand over Vernon first, and then Dudley before addressing Petunia. "Your family is the last in the castle to awaken, but they finally appear to be close to waking up. I suspect that body mass figured into how the spell was metabolized, which would explain the slowness in their shedding the spell. It ought not be more than half an hour now. By the way, I compared the scans I did of them when they arrived to the ones I took this morning. They are in significantly better shape right now than they were on arrival. Unfortunately, the spell that protected them these last months shielded them from the need for any caloric intake – it would have been ideal for them to have fasted this entire time while their bodies used up some of all that stored fat. Even without weight loss, though, their bodies were spared the need to continually process all the unhealthy food they obviously consume. Their livers, gall bladders, kidneys, even their blood and the gentleman's heart, are all much better for the rest."

With that, the little woman left Petunia alone with Vernon and Dudley. Petunia was furious now at the suggestion that she fed her family unhealthy food! How dare she! Vernon loved his meat and potatoes, with just an occasional vegetable, and of course, a cake or pie for dessert with his coffee or brandy, but most men were like that. And Dudley was just a growing boy! When his growth spurt came, the weight would be redistributed and he'd be fine. That woman didn't know what she was talking about!

Before Petunia could work herself into a true snit, the pattern of snores emanating from Vernon and Dudley began to change, and mere moments after that, the snores became snorts. A few snorts on, the two Dursley men were awake.

Petunia could not help notice that they both seemed quite panicked as they awoke, but she immediately stood where they could both see her, and sought to calm them.

"Oh, my two darling boys! I am so glad you've woken up! I missed you both so!" she began, interrupting herself to quickly kiss her husband and then her son in greeting.

Dudley was looking very dubiously at the linen curtains that hung around the beds. "Are we in hospital, Mummy? Are we alright?" he asked, his panic growing.

"No, no darling. We're all safe, nothing to worry about. Something terrible did happen in the world, everyone was sent to sleep, for a very long time. It's already early July, do you know? Right after it happened, there was fear that people who were sleeping might die of dehydration in their sleep, so some were brought here to be kept safely alive until they awoke. But they found a way to make everyone sleep safely, even without care, so it was just a matter of waiting."

She beamed at Vernon and Dudley, just so very happy to finally have her family back.

Vernon was clearly trying to process what she told him, and get his bearings. He really hated to be off-kilter or feel uninformed, she knew.

"Where exactly is "here," Petunia?" he asked warily.

"I'm not entirely sure on the map, but it's Harry's school, Hogwarts."

Vernon snorted derisively. Petunia smiled sadly at him, and continued her story.

"When this terrible thing happened, wizards and just a few other people were able to wake up. The people here at Hogwarts weren't sure if they could help everyone else, so they brought the families of the students who had not woken up to stay here, prepared to keep them alive until they did wake. I was one of the non-wizards who woke up. I was so frightened – I tried to call the police, the firemen, the army, but no one was answering the telephones! I was fully prepared to care for you both at our home, of course, but in the early hours of the catastrophe, the people who came from her to get us said you could not survive without medical help. I was so scared, and I had to do what was necessary to be sure you both were safe!" Her voice broke slightly at that point, and she dabbed at tears in her eyes with a small handkerchief.

"Anyway, you are both fine now, and awake, and this is just wonderful! We're a family again!"

Dudley had rolled to his side a bit to be able to push his bulk into a sitting position, and he put his feet over the side of the bed, looking up at the leaded glass window. "What kind of place is this? It looks ancient!"

"It is an old castle, about one thousand years old, I understand. It's an interesting place, even if you might not wish to associate with some of the people who live here." A small belch escaped from Petunia at that observation, a reminder to her to watch her tongue or suffer the consequences. Vernon had never known Petunia to make such an . . . unfeminine noise, and he looked at her strangely. She looked very stricken at his disapproval.

"It's not been easy being here, but I've had food, a place to sleep, some activities to keep me occupied, and of course, I've been able to visit you both while you slept. I offended someone with a negative comment about wizards, and ever since, whenever I make a critical comment about them, I suffer a bout of flatulence. I have to watch what I say."

Vernon looked outraged that his wife had been treated that way, although Dudley seemed more amused that his mother, of all people, might be capable of making the kind of noises that he and his friends found so funny.

"Come along – it's nearly supper time," Petunia went on, changing the subject as she helped her husband get into a sitting position. From up close, she had to admit, his florid complexion looked healthier than it often did, and he did not seem to be wheezing.

"I have gotten us a tent to stay in as a family. I've been in a dormitory with other women, and they offered tents to those who wanted to live as families. Don't worry, Dudders, it's not like that awful camping tent you had back in Scouts! It doesn't look like much from the outside, but inside, it has two nice-sized bedrooms, two full baths, and a lovely sitting room with the most incredible windows, all fully furnished. They serve three meals a day in the Great Hall, family-style. Lots of food, although I have to admit, my taste buds still don't work. The teachers have suggested that we all plan to stay on for at least a week here, as the stores will not have food, and police need to get reorganized, things like that. Once the world is functioning, we can go back to Privet Drive, but for now, we'll be taken care of."

Vernon stood carefully, wanting to be sure he wasn't dizzy and that he could remain upright. Seeing his father able to stand comfortably, Dudley stood as well. "I don't like this, Petunia. They are all freaks! Dishonest, shifty! What if they are up to something? Are they emptying out our home as we stand here? Have they destroyed my business? I don't trust them, reprobates all!"

"There, there, dear. They have treated me rather well, and you've been looked after. What they say makes sense, when you think on it. Everyone here just woke up today, and I've heard this is what is going on all over the world. We will be fine here for a week or so, and when we get back, there will be stores with food, and petrol stations with petrol, and security and safety. Our lives will be back to normal. Right now, it would be difficult and we'd be on our own."

Petunia had struck a chord with that last observation. Vernon did not like things that were unnecessarily difficult; ease and comfort were his watchwords.

Petunia swept the hair off Dudley's forehead in a motherly gesture, as she took each of her men by the arm and led them out of the curtained room.

"This is the Infirmary. They kept all the people who were sleeping here, where they could be monitored. I'll show you down to the Great Hall from here, and then when we leave the Great Hall, it's just out the front door to the lawn, and I've got a nice spot set up with our tent, with a lovely view of the lake."

They no sooner got to the hallway outside the Infirmary when Dudley squeaked and grabbed her arm. "That painting is moving, Mummy," he whispered in alarm.

"Oh, yes, you do need to get used to that here. The paintings move, and they'll speak to you, too. You can ignore them, if it bothers you, although you can also chat with them if you like."

Vernon looked at his wife as if she'd gone completely mad. Talking to paintings? What had they done to her?

When they reached the staircase to head downstairs, they passed near dozens of paintings, the occupants of which were most interested in the influx of muggles at Hogwarts. Unfortunately for muggles who had never seen a talking and moving oil painting, the painting occupants were also most anxious to speak to the muggles and learn about their world.

A wizard in a turban pictured reading a book was watching Vernon lumber along, and called out "Hello, there, my good sir! Welcome to Hogwarts! Have you traveled far to join us here today? Is this your first visit?" Vernon gripped the heavy banister with both hands as he pulled as far away from the portrait that was speaking to him as possible. That was a perfectly civil greeting, similar to ones he got regularly at his club and in business settings, but it was being offered by an oil painting, and even worse, by some freak in the painting with a bed sheet wrapped around his head! He whimpered slightly in response.

Petunia stepped in. "Thank you, sir. This is my family's first visit here, and they've never seen talking portraits before."

The wizard nodded benignly in acknowledgement, and Petunia herded Vernon and Dudley along. Fortunately, aside from some waves and curtseys offered in greeting as they passed, no other portrait attempted to interact with them.

They finally were down the stairs and about to cross the large vestibule toward the enormous wooden doors of the Great Hall when Vernon and Dudley both noticed the Vikings. Three burly men, none shorter than seven feet tall, were standing by the doors as if to guard them. They were wearing kilts and thin shirts, but their maces and swords were gleaming and terrifying.

"Petunia, what are those men standing by the doors?" Vernon asked in a very quiet voice.

"I've been told they are called Warriors from the Winter Lands, but for all intents and purposes, they are Vikings. They've been here since I got here, to protect the people. Don't worry. Come along."

Petunia led her men over to the doors and nodded to the men as she approached. One of the men opened a door for the Dursleys, and they entered the Great Hall for the first time.


	38. Ch 115 First Impressions

Chapter 115 – First Impressions

A very disquieted muggle monarch and her husband were left reeling by the astonishing story told to them by their grandsons. The Queen was resilient, however. She knew she would be up to this challenge, whatever form it might take. She needed to set a good example for the rest of England, after all.

The first challenge was meeting the head of the school to which she was brought, a man she was told was a wizard. The princes told her that he'd asked to welcome her to Hogwarts (what a funny name!) School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with a small reception with the staff and some Ministry of Magic officials, and then they would take dinner with the entire school in its Great Hall. She really did not have the clothes for public appearances – it seemed she just had the clothes she was wearing, actually.

A young woman had volunteered to help with the non-magical people getting acquainted with the school, the princes had told her. Amaranth Savoy, they said, had organized a most interesting program that had run for the "squibs" – which the princes said they were, people with just a bit of magic in them but not enough to actually do magic. Mrs. Savoy had offered to help the princes with any of the Queen's concerns, so she was summoned to meet with the Queen immediately.

Once again, this person seemed totally unaware of the protocol upon meeting a member of a royal family, but Mrs. Savoy was a lovely young woman, and seemed quite intent on being helpful.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, ma'am! My name is Amaranth Savoy. What can I do to help you?" Mrs. Savoy asked, without so much as a curtsy or "Your Majesty."

"Thank you, Mrs. Savoy," the Queen replied. "We seem to be in need of appropriate clothing, as no bags were brought for us."

"That's no problem at all, ma'am. For now, I'll just transfigure these clothes into whatever you want to wear for dinner, and I'll transfigure a set of nightclothes for you as well from a spare pillowcase. In the morning, the princes can arrange with the Headmaster for someone to bring you what you need. We aren't far, actually, from one of your own castles, I believe," she said, looking to the elder prince for confirmation.

"Yes, we're actually not far from Balmoral, Grandma. If you have things there that you need, we can get that tomorrow, I'm sure, or we can get things brought in from London, as you prefer. Everyone is waking up today, so I'll see if we can get your Lady-In-Waiting to pack for you."

"Oh, will you be staying here for a while, then?" Mrs. Savoy rejoined the conversation. "I know that the Headmaster has recommended that all the muggles stay here for now rather than get right back to their homes. We have food and everything that you need right here, so why put up with delays and queues for food? Makes good sense to stay put, I think."

With that, the chatty young woman slipped a small piece of wood from her sleeve, and pointed it at the Queen, who flinched. "I'm not sure of your style, ma'am. Obviously, we need something appropriate for an early July evening, so summer-weight, but covered because the castle can be chilly at night. A simple dress, maybe in a floral print, with a solid jacket? Let's see how this works, we can always adjust."

She flicked her wrist slightly, and the Queen suddenly realized that she was no longer wearing her heavy pleated skirt and warm shirt; she was now wearing a softly patterned shift dress with a jacket in the most lovely shade of periwinkle. Her sturdy loafers had also been replaced by more delicate but still sensible pumps that matched the jacket.

"Oh, my!" the Queen exclaimed in surprise. "How on earth . . .? This is quite fine, Mrs. Savoy, but how on earth . . . "

The older prince chuckled. "Welcome to the wizarding world, Grandma. You look lovely. Grandpa, you're next."

Mrs. Savoy didn't quite get Philip's suit right on the first try (the style was not that bad, but the lightweight wool fabric was the same periwinkle blue as the Queen's jacket). However, with some guidance from the princes, the style was tweaked and various grey shades tested, with a final result that was pronounced very acceptable by all.

The princes escorted their grandparents through the castle to the vestibule before the Great Hall, not entirely sure where the reception was planned. The Queen took the moving, talking paintings in surprising stride, nodding and exchanging greetings with them all as she passed.

The one castle inhabitant who made the greatest impression on her was one of the ghosts. Just as she stepped into the vestibule, he floated out of a nearby room and made quite a show of greeting the two princes, who seemed to know him rather well. The older prince made the formal introductions. "Grandma, this is one of the ghosts who live in the castle, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington. Sir Nicholas, my grandmother, Queen Elizabeth."

How horrible – the first person she met in the castle who recognized her and knew the general protocol to follow on meeting the reigning queen, and he was a ghost, whose head nearly fell off as he made a very elaborate bow!

The foursome was spared Sir Nicholas' flustered and fawning prattle when Kingsley Shacklebolt exited his Ministry offices upon hearing voices in the vestibule.

"Ah, Your Majesties, welcome, welcome indeed to Hogwarts!" he intoned in his deep, rich voice. He made a very correct bow, and responded as soon as the Queen extended her hand in greeting to shake his. While the shaking of hands was not a wizarding custom, he'd been well schooled in the muggle social protocols before his own assignment as a personal secretary to a Prime Minister a number of years back.

"Allow me to introduce myself: Kingsley Shacklebolt, here at Hogwarts as the on-site representative of the Ministry of Magic in Britain. Our Ministry established an office here when one of the castle residents was identified as the King of the Wizarding World."

The princes had explained at least part of that as they walked down to the vestibule, so the Queen was aware that she had a magical counterpart here. Shacklebolt's exotic African-inspired garb, imposing stature and deep voice made quite an impression. The Queen actually thought she'd seen him before, but could not place him.

"Headmaster Albus Dumbledore and Minister of Magic Amelia Bones are most anxious to welcome you themselves. A reception for you is being held in one of the private rooms behind the Head Table. I'd be pleased to escort you there."

The Queen seemed momentarily unsure, and looked to her grandsons. Harry explained the situation for her. "There is a Head Table at one end of the Great Hall, the room where meals are taken. The Headmaster and Professors sit there, along with adult guests, visiting dignitaries and such. Everyone else sits at long tables that run the length of the room. Wills and I have been sitting with students, or sometimes with other squibs and guests at the castle. We'll be just fine."

The Queen nodded, reassured, although a bit put out that the younger royals were not shown more respect. Looking at Kingsley, she asked "Will we have the opportunity to meet the King of the Wizarding World?"

"Not at the reception, Ma'am. He's a student here, and sits with his classmates. I believe your grandsons have sat with him at times. You will be able to meet Mr. Potter's bondmate, who is a professor."

As they watched their grandparents walk off with the Ministry representative, the princes suddenly wished that they'd had a bit more time to explain things to their grandmother about Harry Potter and his bondmate – that might come as a shock.

The reception room was comfortably filled as Kingsley escorted his charges into the room. Mrs. Savoy's initial choice of periwinkle blue for her husband's suit was fully explained by the riot of color that greeted the Queen there.

Albus Dumbledore would never have recognized the Queen of England on his own, but when he saw the two people arrive in Kingsley's wake, he quickly drew the correct conclusion and immediately went to greet them. The Queen was quite charmed by the old, almost archetypical wizard, with his long hair and even longer beard, wearing robes of shimmering blue and silver. His Deputy Headmistress, with her pointy hat and tartan robe, was perfectly cast as a witch, in the Queen's eye. As she was escorted around and introduced to the various people assembled, the sheer diversity of dress and style amazed her.

The members of the oddly-named Wizard governing body shared a role, but could not have looked more different from one another. The Minister was a no-nonsense middle-aged woman, in rather plain robes in a deep red color. There was a tall, lanky gentleman dressed in drab brown street clothes, who could easily pass without notice in most English villages. He seemed to be with a smaller man with long curly hair and a mischievous smile who wore an ankle-length jacket in a deep blue satin brocade.

The man introduced as Lord Lucius Malfoy was in a category of his own. He was tall, regal, impeccably dressed in robes of sumptuous if brightly colored fabrics, immaculately groomed and incredibly bejeweled. Here was someone who put a tremendous amount of thought, time and money into his appearance! Not exactly the Queen's sort, but quite a sight to behold. He was accompanied by his wife, an equally stunning, extremely beautiful woman wearing opals that rivaled some in the Queen's own collection.

Among the last to arrive was a couple, but it was not immediately clear if they were husband and wife or possibly family. He was tall and she was of moderate height, but they had the same basic slim build, black hair and dark eyes. Her features were quite beautiful where his were, shall we say, dramatic. She wore a modest, colorful dress beneath a flowing robe, and he wore severe black robes. They immediately went to stand with a man who could only be described as the very picture of a Viking of old.

The Headmaster greeted them with particular enthusiasm. "Ah, Lord and Lady Brand, Severus, how wonderful to see you all! Queen Elizabeth, may I present Lady Diana Snape Brand, a member of our Wizengamot and representative of the Winter Lands. Lord Alrik Brand, her husband, is the eldest son of the leader of the Winter Lands." The Queen had no idea what or where the Winter Lands might be, but nodded graciously, nonetheless.

"And this is Lady Brand's brother, Lord Severus Snape, a Professor here at Hogwarts, a highly decorated Potions Master in the wizarding world at large, and the bondmate of Harry Potter," Albus concluded.

A flicker of confusion crossed the Queen's face at the reference to "bondmate." She had no idea what that was about, but she recovered quickly. She would have loved the opportunity to speak to the forbidding-looking man about his "bondmate," but someone else had arrived and she was being escorted off to meet the new arrival.

Albus was leading the Queen over to a woman who looked strange, but also strangely familiar. Augusta Longbottom had arrived wearing green robes of uncertain vintage, and one of her outrageous hats, complete with a large stuffed vulture perched atop it. Each woman seemed to have a glimmer of uncertain recognition as she looked at the other.

"Queen Elizabeth, may I present Augusta Longbottom, a prospective member of the International Confederation of Sorcerers."

The names did it. "Augie Greavington Longbottom?" the Queen asked, emphasizing the middle, maiden name.

Augusta smiled broadly at the use of her nickname and maiden name, names she hadn't heard spoken in many years. "And Princess Lillibet!" she replied.

Amid cries of happy surprise, the two old acquaintances briefly embraced, quite out of character for those who knew either of them.

Turning to her husband and the Headmaster, the Queen explained "When I was a youngster, my mother had a driver who also served as a bodyguard, Augie Greavington. She could drive any kind of vehicle, and if it broke down, she could fix it and have it back on the road in no time. My sister and I loved to go riding with her, always a little too fast, and we never had any trouble when Augie was with us. Oh my goodness, and the hats! Who could forget the hats with the vultures and hawks perched on them!"

Looking again at "Augie," the Queen went on fondly, "And you did not come with us when we went to Windsor. We did miss you so. I thought of you when I joined the Women's Auxiliary during the war as a driver and mechanic. Never quite as good as you were, but you would have been proud."

"Ah, Princess, you didn't have the benefit of magic when repairing the cars!" Augusta explained.

The two old friends were swept up in reminiscences until it was time for the group to head into the Great Hall for dinner.

X X X X X X X X X X

As the Viking opened the large door to the Great Hall, Vernon and Dudley got their first glimpses of the room. Petunia had stepped into the room first, to identify an appropriate place for them to sit, and they crowded in behind her. Food had not yet appeared on the tables, so they were not late. The noise level was high and no attention was paid to them.

There was an unusually large crowd tonight. All the formerly-sleeping muggles would be here, of course, and the Head Table looked about double its usual size, with at least one extra row, and everyone looked quite dressed up. Must be a Very Important Person up there tonight; she'd have to look more closely, once her family was seated.

Petunia led her family away from the four tables for the Hogwarts students, over toward the tables where she and the squibs had been seated these past months. She found open space toward the end of a table, where her bulky family members could slide in, rather than have to climb over the benches.

Vernon was looking all around with great suspicion and concern. He'd never been in a room with so many freaks and oddballs, and he didn't like that his family was exposed to this . . . element. For his part, Dudley looked rather frightened, although he did not seem to know why he was so scared.

"There, there, now Vernon and Dudley. This is where everyone takes their meals; they call it the Great Hall. Rather uncomfortable seats, I know," Petunia prattled on, "but you can deal with it. Now don't be frightened, but when it's time for the meal service, the platters just appear on the table, and you help yourself."

"Mummy, who are all these people?" Dudley finally blurted out, seeming to share his father's suspicions.

"The first four rows of tables are where the students sit, grouped according to their Houses. That is like you have at Smeltings, right, darling? They have four Houses here, so four long tables. I can never remember the names of the Houses – strange names, for sure, but I believe they are named for the founders of the school. They add rows over on this side of the room for guests, like us. The people at the House tables are all witches and wizards."

Vernon visibly tried to put more room between himself and those four tables. Dudley noticed, and immediately tried to do the same.

"These tables include some witches and wizards, but also the few of us who were awake after everyone went to sleep, and now all the people who have just awoken."

Dudley was now looking fearfully at a small girl seated a few spaces away from him. "How can who tell who the freaks are?"

Petunia smiled at her boy. "Mostly by their clothes, actually, although not all the witches and wizards dress in the odd style some of them follow. Anyone in a robe or really odd-style clothes is almost certainly a witch or wizard. But some people who are dressed in normal clothes are also witches and wizards – some of them dress like normal people. There are a few who look peculiar, physically, but surprisingly, many of them could pass as normal, aside from how they dress."

Dudley surreptitiously looked over to his right. The little girl was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with the logo of a popular children's cartoon character on it. Looking beyond her, he saw a man who he assumed was her father, in corduroy trousers and a button-down shirt, and a woman sitting across from them both in a printed shirt-waist dress. Dudley visible relaxed, assuming a family group dressed like that was not magical.

Petunia pointed to the front of the room, to the Head Table. "Up there is where all the professors sit. You can be sure, they are all witches and wizards. They seem to have guests; there's usually just one table, but they add a row or two sometimes. I can't quite see who all is up there, but they look rather dressed up, so I assume there's an important guest here tonight."

Then she pointed to the ceiling. "They applied some magic to the ceiling in this room so it always looks like the sky outside. I rather like that feature. Makes me more comfortable to be able to see the sky." Both Vernon and Dudley nodded their agreement. Finally, a positive use for magic!

A hush fell over the room, and the three Dursleys craned their necks to see what was happening up at the Head Table.

A most peculiar-looking old man had stood up, and was visible over the heads of the people seated at the tables. He looked like an old hippy, but was wearing what looked like a dress – truly a freak! He pointed a stick at his throat, and began to speak. Vernon was startled to realize they could hear him clearly, even though they were seated at the farthest part of the very large room and he did not seem to be yelling.

"Welcome, one and all to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! We are thrilled tonight to welcome not only Minister of Magic Bones and a number of members of the Wizengamot and Ministers, but all of our non-magical family members, as well. We so rarely have the chance to bring our non-magical family members to visit Hogwarts, so it is quite a treat to share our very unique castle with you all."

There was a small smattering of applause, which seemed to surprise the man.

"I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts; my name is Albus Dumbledore." He gestured to an elderly woman to his left, who stood as he did so. "This is our Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, who probably met with many of you non-magical parents and family members when your Hogwarts students got their letters inviting them to attend here."

Vernon seemed bursting to say something – that woman looked like someone dressed for Halloween – he'd never in his life seen someone who looked more like a witch. However, the Headmaster wasn't done speaking.

"We hope that you will all remain here for at least another week or two, as the non-magical world gets itself sorted out. We have ample food and shelter for you all, and you will be safer and more comfortable here than at your homes. If you feel you want to leave, we will of course help you return to your home, but keep in mind that stores might not have goods, and some services might not yet be operational as you expect. Better to wait it out here, if you can."

"Those of your friends and family members who awakened this day at their homes, or offices, are seeing a message on their televisions that explains to them what happened. I assume your family members have shared that information with you, but we have gotten little silver disks" Albus gestured vaguely, and looked behind him for help in identifying them. Someone whispered to him and he continued. "Little silver disks called DVDs that contain a recording of the message so you can watch it yourselves when you go home. We don't have devices here on which you can watch them."

"We welcomed many people here to Hogwarts over the past few months, after everyone was sent to sleep. Among them were two members of the British Royal family, the young princes, who were awakened because they have a bit of magic in them. As we moved non-magical people with family at Hogwarts here to be cared from while they slept, our Ministry took care of a number of non-magical members of the British government, and members of the Royal family. At the request of the princes, we brought Britain's Queen Elizabeth and her husband, Philip, to Hogwarts today, and are delighted to welcome them, in particular."

Vernon's mouth fell open when he saw the woman to the Headmaster's right stand up and give her trademark wave to the large room. She absolutely looked like the Queen, and there, a few seats away, was a gentleman who was the spitting image of Prince Philip. Were they imposters? What nonsense was this?

The Headmaster continued. "Enough of the greetings and welcomes, although I assure one and all they are sincerely meant. I believe it is time for our evening meal to commence." He gestured expansively with both arms, and without a single noise, suddenly, the tables were all laden with food.

A few muggles shrieked in surprise at the sudden, very magical arrival of their food. As most smelled the delicious aromas wafting from the food piled high on all the platters, they tucked in quickly. Vernon and Dudley could not smell the food, but its appearance was genuine enough for them.

Petunia reached for the serving fork and immediately began to place large portions of beef and chicken on her family's plates, adding several spoonfuls of mashed potatoes, and some Yorkshire pudding, and a few vegetables. Vernon remained suspicious; Dudley had seen the family seated nearby eating to no apparent ill effect, so he got right to it, shoveling food into his mouth as fast as he could. Vernon eventually overcame the worst of his suspicions, and took a tentative bite. He couldn't taste this any more than he'd been able to taste Petunia's cooking these past months, but everyone seemed to be enjoying the food, so he began to scarf down the large portions.

Petunia served herself last, the more modest portions that she favored, with more vegetables and some salad. It was very pleasant to have those available. She could never put more than two vegetables on her table at home, lest Vernon complain, and salads had to be offered sparingly, too. There was no taste for her, but she enjoyed the change of textures.

She daintily picked up her scramasax and began to eat her dinner.

X X X X X X X X X X

The wizards didn't quite know what to do with muggle royalty, but everyone got seated at the Head Table with minimal fuss. It seemed appropriate for the Queen to sit next to the Headmaster, and since she and Augusta clearly had so much to catch up on, Mrs. Longbottom was seated on her other side. After all the adjustments were made, Severus found himself seated between Philip and Mrs. Longbottom, essentially limiting his dinner conversation to Philip.

The elder royal looked a bit intimidated by the stern professor, but decades of attending all manner of diplomatic and political events had put him in less hospitable situations many times, so he gamely initiated a chat with Severus.

"Lord Snape, where exactly is this place? I gather we are in Scotland, but I've spent a great deal of time at Balmoral Castle and never saw anything to suggest that such a place as this existed, and I understand it's nearby."

"You are in Scotland, sir, but no muggle would notice the School unless you were invited here and knew what to look for. There are charms and enchantments in place to protect us, and one of those renders the building and its surrounds invisible to muggles."

"Muggles?" the prince asked. That was three times now he'd heard that word.

"Muggles are what we call non-magical people, " Severus explained. He paused for a moment, but decided it would be best to just help this little conversation along. Local geography seemed like a safe topic. "We are near a small village called Hogsmeade, which is on your muggle maps. It even maintains a connection to your Royal Mail. However, it is a wizarding community, and no muggles live there."

"Do wizards also live in London?" the prince wondered. You might be able to have a small community in a remote section of Scotland that could remain undetected, but certainly these people were not in a densely-populated place like London.

"Of course. Our Ministry of Magic's offices are in London, and our commercial center is there as well, with our wizard bank, our specialty shops, and such. Those places are also protected from muggle eyes with various spells and enchantments. Of course, some wizards choose to live in the surrounding community among the muggles, in London and even in suburban or rural locations. My own family home is in High Hill County."

"I don't believe I've ever heard of High Hill County, Lord Snape."

"It is an unplottable county, completely unknown to muggles, not on your maps. There are six unplottable counties in wizarding Britain, which basically means that they are part of our country but not part of muggle Britain."

"I believe the Headmaster mentioned that your sister is married to someone from the Winter Lands. Is that an unplottable county, too?"

""Unplottable, but not actually on British soil. The Winter Lands are in a place I think you would probably identify as Sweden, although it is not visible on Swedish maps." Severus was initially inclined to stop there, but the interest was clear on the prince's face, so he continued.

"A magical community of Vikings broke away from their muggle countrymen in the year 825, when their leader's son married a witch from Lindisfarne. British wizards helped them create the spells and enchantments to render their homeland unplottable – sadly, while the Vikings are a race of remarkably strong people physically, they are magically rather weak. They needed the assistance of Britain's witches and wizards to step out of view. They became nervous when a magical community began to expand in what is today Russia in about 1050, and sought a more formal arrangement with Britain. They became a Protectorate. They just recently transferred that Protectorate status from Britain to Mr. Potter."

The prince was chewing his food as if he'd forgotten how to swallow, he was so amazed by the information Severus was sharing. But he was extremely curious about this new world that apparently existing right under their noses, and had one more line of questions to pursue, if Severus would entertain a few more.

"I'm not an expert on the Peerage, Lord Snape, but I do not recall ever seeing that name among any lists of Dukes, Marquesses or Earls. Is your title British?"

Severus found himself almost entertained sharing small items about the wizarding world with this muggle, who was so obviously stunned with his disclosures.

"It is a title in the wizarding world, not from the muggle world. The heads of many of the ancient houses have used the titles Lord and Lady for many centuries. The wizarding world does not have a hierarchy of titles as I understand exists in your muggle world. We have just the one title. If someone has the title of Lord or Lady in this world, they are associated with one of the ancient houses. The titles pass through the male line as I believe is the case in your world."

"And how then is it that you have a King?" the prince wanted to know.

Severus indulged in a small smile. "We don't know, really. Since long before the time of Merlin, when the wizarding world has needed a King, one arises in our midst. I imagine that centuries have passed where there was a wizard who could have assumed that mantle, but there was not the crisis or situation that required he be called. When it is time to recognize someone as the King of the Wizarding World, there is a Calling. All the most powerful witches and wizards throughout the world will hear a bell, summoning them." Severus' smile was gone now, as he recalled his own painful encounter with the summons he could not answer. "When the time is right, they know it, and all go to whatever place they are summoned, where they recognize and greet the new King."

"The new King is your bondmate, I understand?" the prince asked almost gingerly. He wasn't entirely sure if that was an impertinent question, but he was filled with curiosity and could not resist.

"Yes, he is," was all the answer Severus was willing to provide.

"The Queen has expressed interest in meeting King Harry Potter. She had hoped we'd meet him at the reception, but Mr. Shacklebolt informed us that he is a student here, and honors his role at school."

Severus smiled at the thought of a Gryffindor honoring anything at this school; most of them existed for the purpose of flaunting and ignoring roles and rules, as far as he knew. He also imagined the look on Harry's face if he was called King Harry. However, that wasn't for the prince.

"His family is an ancient one, as well, so he is formally known in the wizarding world, even among those who are aware of his status as King, as Lord Potter. Harry grew up in the muggle world, you know. I suspect he will be very pleased to meet you and the Queen. The Headmaster has invited you and the others to enjoy an after-dinner drink in his office, and I will ask Harry to join us there."

X X X X X X X X X X

Vernon looked shocked as Petunia deftly stabbed at her food and popped it into her mouth. "What on earth are you doing, Pet?"

She looked down, surprised to hear that something was amiss. She'd not dropped food down the front of her blouse, and her food had not fallen off her dish, so it took her a moment to process her husband's concern. She realized he was glaring in fascinated horror at the scramasax.

"Oh, this. I seem to have a very strong allergic reaction to the silverware here. I don't know if it's something in the metals they use, or what, but I can't bear to hold the stuff. It feels like its burning my hands. One of their quaint customs involves the use of these old knives, like what was used before forks and spoons were invented. I discovered I can hold this without the burning feeling, so I started to use it. You do have to be careful," she went on, seeing Dudley watching her and looking for a spare scramasax of his own to try out. "The knives are very sharp. It's not uncommon for people to give themselves nasty cuts with them. I only started to use this when I could no longer hold onto a spoon or fork."

Vernon looked at her with some suspicion, but his interest in eating his own dinner soon outweighed whatever he thought of his wife's new piece of silverware, so dinner continued, largely without conversation.

"So, Petunia, do you think that is really the Queen herself up there, or is this their idea of a joke?" Vernon wanted to know, as he stuffed another bite of trifle into his mouth.

"That probably is the Queen. I volunteered to work in the greenhouses while I was here, because of the windows and light, of course, and when I gathered leaves from plants, the younger prince was the person who came by to collect what I gathered. We chatted every once in a while. I was initially thinking to ask him if anyone had ever told him he resembled the younger prince, when one of the women here told me he was the younger prince. I saw his older brother at times, as well. Lovely young men, actually."

Dudley had finished a serving of trifle, and was now working on a cobbler. "So, is he here? Harry?" he asked. Vernon's face clouded at the mention of his damned nephew, although Petunia seemed pleased that he'd asked.

"He's here tonight, I'm sure. He'll be sitting with his House, of course."

"Did you see him while you were here?" Dudley persisted.

"He stopped by when he heard I was in the Infirmary once, after I fainted, to be sure I was recovered, and I ran into him in the greenhouses several times. He was busy with his studies and such, and I was associating with a group of women like myself. He seems to have fit in well here."

Vernon harrumphed at that last observation. "He would fit in among the freaks, of course he would! Just you wait until I get my hands on that freak! How dare he, how dare they, interfere with our lives like this! It's all a plot, I tell you! They are up to no good, the lot of them."

Petunia looked pained at that observation. As much as she wanted to agree with her husband, she knew what would happen if she did, and she'd be mortified.

She did want to convey to Vernon and Dudley that Harry was in a very different position here, though. She had her doubts that Vernon would be able to get his hands on Harry here, either because the boy could use magic to deal with them or because one of these horrid people would intervene. She did not want her boys to be hurt, whatever happened.

"I believe you'll find that Harry is rather famous in this world," she offered

Vernon laughed derisively at that, although Dudley looked interested, so she pushed on.

"No, really, it seems that the wizard who killed his parents tried to kill him as well. Harry survived the curse that was intended to kill him, the first person ever to do so. That's where that strange scar came from. Just be prepared – some people here get positively weepy over The Boy Who Lived. That's what many of these people call him."

Vernon laughed harder at that news, and Dudley decided to copy his father in that.

"The Boy Who Lived! Not once I get my hands on him, right, Father?"

Vernon beamed with pride at his Dudders. None of the Dursleys noticed that the little family group seated nearby had overheard them and was scooting away from them as quickly as possible.


	39. Ch 116 Getting Even

Chapter 116 – Getting Even

Harry felt a tug on his robe as he prepared to leave with his classmates when dinner was over. A house elf, who seemed to be invisible to the others, was signaling for him to stay behind.

"You go on ahead," he said to his friends. "I need to speak to Severus. I'll catch up later."

Harry sat back down in his seat, his back against the table, as the others walked off in groups. It was just a few minutes later that Severus swept through the Great Hall to his side to speak to him.

"Very clever, using a house elf to get my attention," he said with a smile as Severus approached. "Good thing they're invisible. I don't think too many muggles would have appreciated a house elf popping up in their midst."

"Indeed," Severus mumbled. "No, I needed to get your attention before you disappeared off to the Gryffindor Common Room to visit with your friends, or out to the lawn to fly."

Harry had to smile – that pretty much summed up the evening's itinerary. The very long days of early summer meant extended flying time, something most of Harry's friends valued highly.

"The Headmaster has invited the guests staying at Hogwarts to join him for drinks in his office. While you may have successfully skived off the pre-dinner reception, Prince Philip mentioned that the Queen is most anxious to meet you. I said I'd ask you to join us after dinner."

"I thought the man you were talking to looked familiar. We noticed that Neville's grandmother had quite a bit to say to Queen Elizabeth. Neville said he'd never seen her speak to anyone so enthusiastically. What was that about?" Harry asked. The Gryffindor table had no particular interest in who was at the Head Table most evenings (although some of Sirius' antics had been worth watching over the last few months), but when Hermione noticed how much conversation was flowing between Mrs. Longbottom and the Queen, she pointed it out to Neville. He, and of course then all of them, began to watch the goings-on with great interest. The long and animated conversation between the Queen and Neville's grandmother was one none of them would have predicted.

"Apparently, one of her early assignments as an Auror was as a driver to the Queen's mother. Back then, the Ministry usually had an Auror tasked to the royal family as well as to the Prime Minister's office. The Headmaster told me that the Queen was staring at Mrs. Longbottom's hat with a peculiar look. As soon as he offered her name, the Queen added her maiden name, and they were embracing as old friends. I imagine Mrs. Longbottom's hats do tend to stay with one, in nightmares, at least."

Harry couldn't control the laugh that burst out at that point. He wasn't sure if anyone had ever told Severus that he was the form taken by Neville's boggart in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and that in response to Neville's Riddikulus spell, the boggart had donned Mrs. Longbottom's dress and hat.

No, it was unlikely that anyone had ever thought to share that with Severus. And on further thought, this didn't seem like the time to share it, either.

While Severus gave Harry a funny look in response to his outburst, he did not pursue the cause of the laughter further, to Harry's great relief.

"Yes, I imagine those stuffed vultures create their own memories," Harry agreed instead. "Why on earth does the Queen want to meet me?"

As Harry stood and started to walk with Severus the rest of the way to the exit to the Great Hall, Severus explained. "I gather that your friends, the two princes, shared some of your story with her, and she'd like to meet you."

Harry never responded to that comment, because he noticed two hulking forms taking up position at the end of the aisle between the long tables, blocking him and Severus from strolling out of the Hall. Vernon and Dudley were standing before them. Vernon looked angry and menacing, his face getting redder as the seconds passed, his beefy hands flexing into fists. Dudley had that look he often got, more sadistic than actually menacing, when he was hoping that he'd be able to watch Harry get a good thumping from his father.

Severus also noticed what was going on, and as soon as he saw Petunia lurking timidly behind the two behemoths, he knew who they were. Up at the Head Table, Sirius and Remus had spotted the three Dursleys moving toward the Gryffindor table where Harry and Severus were speaking. As the crowd in the room began to thin out, they began their own quick stroll down between the tables. Neither was quite certain where this confrontation was heading, but wanted to be there should their assistance be needed.

Severus bristled ever so slightly and stepped just a bit closer to Harry, so Harry would know that he was standing beside him. As much as he'd love to just hex those two into large gobs of oozing matter on the floor, he knew he could not. There would no doubt be Aurors involved. Albus would object. It would probably even upset Harry for reasons he'd never understand. And one had to consider how the other just-awakened muggles would react to the sight of two of their number being turned into sludge. Whatever happened (and Severus silently vowed that there _would_ be retribution even if not at this particular moment), they were not going to be allowed to harm Harry in any way. Severus would enjoy killing them, but he had to put that thought aside. They could not be allowed to do any harm to Harry.

Harry and Severus continued their stroll toward the doors, joined shortly by Sirius and Remus. No words were spoken as the two caught up with them, but in a silent exchange between Severus and the two, it was clearly understood that they were going to protect Harry.

The foursome stopped when they were a bit more than two arms lengths from the bulky duo who stood shoulder-to-shoulder to block their paths. Very calmly, Harry nodded at his relatives and spoke softly but with assurance. "Uncle Vernon, Dudley, welcome to Hogwarts. Please step aside; we need to leave the Great Hall."

It was Vernon who replied, with breathless menace. "I don't think so, boy. You have some explaining to do. Why did my son and I fall asleep for months? That must be something you freaks did. Why were we brought to this God-forsaken place? You know how I feel about freaks like you, so how dare you bring my family to a place absolutely rife with them? I'll show you what I think of you, and this horrible place!" Vernon was warming up, getting more and more riled, and starting to lose control. Spittle was starting to collect in the corner of his mouth, and spray out as his invective grew louder. He kept flexing his hands into fists.

But his decision to make a move toward Harry was his biggest mistake of the day.

With a lazy wave of his hand, Severus caused Vernon to stop in his tracks, turning nearly purple as he sputtered impotently. Harry suspected that Severus had done something to Uncle Vernon's airway, but to anyone looking on, the man appeared to be near tears, gasping to control himself. Dudley seemed unwilling to completely step down from his own menacing stance, but he was looking uncertainly at his father and not sure why he'd abandoned what had been shaping up to be quite a tirade. Petunia continued to hover behind them, not sure herself what had caused Vernon to stop mid-rant.

Severus spoke up now, his own voice deep and menacing, and the look on his face one that had been known to reduce even Ravenclaws to tears of fright. "My, my, Mr. Dursley, you seem to have forgotten your manners. How unfortunate. A more appropriate greeting for your nephew should have included a warm smile and heartfelt thanks for assuring that you and your family were sheltered and cared for during this terrible time."

No one noticed that Severus was looking very intently at Uncle Vernon for several seconds. Harry held Sirius back by the forearm to keep him from interrupting; he could see Sirius was prepared to make quite a scene, and he was really hoping that Severus would find a way to just enable them to walk out of the Great Hall peacefully.

Now Severus had focused on Dudley. "And you, young Dursley, no better manners than your father! Shame on you." Dudley looked to be equal parts terrified and confused as this incredibly evil-looking person peered at him.

It was Remus who noticed, as Dudley seemed to lose focus for a second, that it was quite likely that Severus was performing Legilimency on him. That might have explained why he'd seen the father shaking his head as if to clear mental cobwebs seconds ago. He was not sure what Severus was finding; from what he'd learned of Harry's time with the Dursleys, it was probably not good. He was hoping that Severus would not lose control.

It was taking all of Severus' self-control to maintain his civility toward the Dursleys. What he'd seen in the minds of each of the Dursley men made him feel ill. He took a deep, calming breath.

"We will speak again, I assure you. But for now, Mr. Potter and I and our two colleagues must excuse ourselves. We are expected at a reception for your Queen." Looking at Vernon, he continued. "You, sir, will find it very difficult, maybe even impossible, to breathe if you speak disrespectfully to your nephew. Behaving in a civil and polite manner will enable you to go about your business here without problem, but any aggressive or hostile actions or disrespectful comments will prove to be most uncomfortable, and maybe even injurious to your health." With a dismissive glance at Dudley, he added, "The same goes for you, young man. Your behavior here tonight was disgraceful. Looking to brawl like a common hooligan!"

Severus took a slight step back, and maintained eye contact as Vernon suddenly found he could breathe again.

Harry could tell that Uncle Vernon was considering his options; he was looking around shiftily, assessing the odds that he and Dudley could take on the four wizards standing before them. Harry hoped Severus understood the risk that they continued to pose.

Severus finally spared a quick glance at Sirius, who caught the unspoken concern that Vernon was likely not to be trusted. Sirius flicked an invisible shield into place around the foursome, just in case, earning a nod from Severus. When Vernon and Dudley stepped aside, joining Petunia pressed against the seats of the table behind them, the four walked past, Remus and Sirius going on ahead and Harry and Severus following.

As Harry swept by, just inches from his uncle, Vernon could not control his anger at the boy, and Vernon lunged for him. The shield protecting Harry completely blocked the man from making any contact, and the hostile action toward Harry caused Vernon's airway to constrict. Petunia and Dudley helped Vernon, now quite purple and sputtering, to sit on the bench behind him.

Severus turned once all of the foursome had passed, and observed the scene before him.

"Tsk, tsk. Very stupid of you, Dursley. You had been warned of the consequences of taking action against Harry, and yet you went ahead and tried to attack him." Severus made a show of sighing and shaking his head. "I imagine that it will be several minutes before this breathing problem abates, assuming that you sit quietly and make no further attempts to bother anyone. If you do try to hurt anyone, well . . ." he concluded with an elegant shrug of his shoulders. He turned on his heels and, robe billowing behind him, left the Great Hall.

Petunia sat sadly beside her husband, and held his hand in hers, patting it gently as he calmed down and slowly became able to breathe normally again. Dudley sat on the other side of his mother, looking near to tears in distress as he watched his father struggle for air.

"Mummy, what's wrong with him? Why is Daddy having so much trouble breathing?" he asked softly.

"I suspect the tall man with dark hair did magic on him. I get gassy when I say something nasty about wizards, and it seems he's made your father, and you, if we believe what he said, have difficulty breathing if you do anything against Harry or wizards. I tried to warn you both, things are different here. Brute force doesn't work against magic, and here, Harry and the others can do magic. And there are many people here who will protect Harry."

Dudley looked very confused. He could not fathom a place where people actually liked Harry and wanted to protect him, not after growing up hearing his father and mother constantly tell him how awful Harry was and how useless and worthless he was. How could things be so different here?

"What did that man mean; the Queen wants to meet Harry?" Dudley asked his mother.

"Well, we did see her up at the Head Table, so we know she's here. I've overheard people speaking about Harry here – he's very highly regarded among these people. Children are named for him, that sort of thing. Recently, they seem to have decided that he's the king of the wizard world."

Petunia's timing was bad on that last statement. Vernon was nearly recovered and starting to breathe easily again, but he reacted loudly to the news that Harry was regarded as the king of this world, with the beginnings of a diatribe about his worthless nephew and the freaks and drunks and reprobates in this freakish world. He did not get too far into it, though, before his airway constricted again and he had to sit quietly for several more minutes before the purple color faded from his face and he was able to breathe comfortably again.

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry was quite tickled when the Headmaster presented him to the Queen. He remembered his lessons from muggle school about what to do when meeting the Queen, and was pretty sure he had not committed a faux pas, although it was very awkward to have her and her husband bowing back at him. He also had to reassure her several times that his preferred form of address was, indeed, "Harry," and not "Your Majesty."

Harry was very relieved to have Severus by his side as they chatted, although he sensed that the Queen and Prince Philip were a bit uncomfortable. She was a lovely lady, very grandmotherly, sort of an older and much more reserved Mrs. Weasley. All that was very positive to Harry, but she kept looking at Severus in a way that suggested she wasn't entirely sure about him.

All was clarified when the Queen, very delicately, inquired about their relationship as bondmates. "I have heard several people refer to you as "bondmates" and I am not certain that I understand what that means," she had ventured.

Severus did not look happy with the question, but Harry felt emboldened enough by Severus' presence to attempt the response.

"It's not unlike marriage, your Majesty. At the start of this school year, I faced a threat from a politician, who wanted to use me to further his political career but in a way that was almost guaranteed to do me harm, probably get me killed. We had little time to react to this, and we cast about for something that could protect me from this man. We had very few options, one of which was to get me married immediately. The Headmaster has a very ancient artifact called the Marriage Stone that shows people their soul mates, and when he said my name to the Stone, it identified Severus as my soul mate. Severus had protected me from threats many times since I came to Hogwarts, and he was persuaded to accept me as his bondmate. The politician's plan was thwarted."

The still-suspicious looks on their faces suggested to Severus that the royals might be thinking that such a permanent solution to what appeared to be a temporary problem seemed excessive. He was disinclined to share anything more with them, however, feeling that this entire line of inquiry was inappropriate. Once again, however, Harry's sense of propriety seemed to be a bit more flexible than his own.

"I couldn't be happier about being bonded to Severus, actually. We had no idea about all this at the time," Harry went on, with a vague wave of his hand that could encompass this particular gathering but clearly meant so much more. "I really cannot imagine having to face it on my own, without someone like Severus, who is brilliant, and extremely strong, brave beyond measure, and who knows how the world works."

The Queen's expression softened dramatically at that statement. She'd experienced that exact feeling herself, as she settled into her royal role with Philip by her side.

For his part, although he'd deny it, Severus stood ever so slightly taller and his eyes glistened ever so slightly darker.

"He's even saved my life a few times since – I do hope the need for that starts to taper off at some point – but finding your soul mate in the magical world is very exciting and significant," Harry continued. "We share a magical resonance, you see. Bondmates can impact each others' magic, or work their magic together. We haven't figured it all out yet, but I know I need Severus by my side to do what I need to do."

Severus seemed to have a large lump in his throat that prevented him from saying anything at that point, and he was desperately hoping one of the royals would offer a rejoinder to that statement because he certainly wasn't capable of doing so. Harry wasn't quite finished, however.

"The Headmaster has some fascinating artifacts here, and I'm sure he'd be willing to show you some of the more significant ones, like the Marriage Stone."

Albus had been standing a few feet away, chatting with Sirius and Mrs. Longbottom. Actually, the conversation was pretty much just between him and Mrs. Longbottom, as Sirius was intently eavesdropping on Harry's conversation with the royals. At that moment, Sirius was profoundly torn between blind, killing rage (on general principle) and a lump in his own throat at Harry's declaration of his feelings toward Severus Snape, made to the muggle Queen, of all people!

Albus turned when he heard Harry refer to his title, with a question on his face.

"Sir, I think the Queen and Prince Philip might enjoy the opportunity to see some of the remarkable artifacts and magical devices that you have here."

"Show off some of my trinkets and do-dads? You know I always love to do that, Harry!" Albus excused himself from Mrs. Longbottom and Sirius and happily shepherded the royals and Harry over to the tall shelves on which he kept his treasures.

Remus took advantage the shuffling of the people in that little group to excuse himself from a conversation with Minerva and pull Severus aside for a word. "That looked like Legilimency you were doing on the uncle and cousin, Severus. What did you find out?"

This was not the place for such a conversation, especially as they were joined almost immediately by Sirius. Remus gently took Sirius by the arm, and with a look, silenced him. It was obvious to Severus that Sirius had been eavesdropping on their conversation with the Queen, so his temper was already at the boiling point. With a nod toward the door, Severus led the two out of the room. Once they reached the landing, Severus opened the door to Harry's offices and led the others into the reception room. No one sat; Severus stood in front of the large fireplace, Remus leaned on the back of a chair, and Sirius paced, having a hard time containing his anger and nervous energy.

"We have to consider what to do about the Dursleys," was Severus' opening statement, offered quickly to preempt any comment from Sirius about what he had just overheard in Albus' office.

Remus nodded. "What did you learn about how they treated Harry, Severus?"

Sirius stopped his pacing and showed sudden interest in Severus, divorced from his inner distress over Harry's professed feelings for the man. He'd almost forgotten that Severus had some unusual but often useful skills. Severus' face showed true pain, and that took Sirius and Remus aback. Sirius in particular would have wagered the man had no feelings (except perhaps of superiority) and was incapable of feeling pain because of what was done to another, but the man appeared to be suffering.

"They preyed on him, that's the only way to describe it. They both took pleasure in hurting and humiliating Harry," Severus said softly.

"They belittled and mocked everything about Harry, at every turn. The uncle took all his personal or business slights or disappointments out on Harry, locking him in that damnable cupboard, depriving him of food, working him like a house elf, smacking him about. It's active, seething hatred he feels – he wants Harry to suffer. And he seems to have conveyed some of that to his son. That boy is a bully, pure and simple. Happy to go after anyone who is smaller, or weaker, or less able to defend themselves. Likes to hurt people, but is fundamentally a coward. Harry is just one of his victims, although because of his parents and their attitudes, Harry is his favorite victim. Despicable people, truly. Both of them."

Severus folded his arms across his chest, as his words hung in the air for a moment. Each man processed the information in silence.

Ever the voice of reason, Remus spoke first. "We know that we can't kill them, or inflict a permanent injury."

Sirius looked crestfallen at that statement, but Severus nodded. "I have to agree, as much as it pains me to do so, that we are limited in terms of what we can do to them. Albus has cast spells on all of them: they are painfully claustrophobic and afraid of the dark, and they have lost all sense of taste, although they continue to crave food. I've added a few quirkier spells of my own, as I believe you know."

"We should take advantage of the fact that they are within the castle grounds; this will be more complicated once they return to Little Whinging. Do you think they'll be looking to return there immediately?" Remus went on.

Severus nodded at Remus. "You're right, we should act now, because I am concerned about how soon they will want to leave. The uncle hates all things magic, so from his perspective, he hates being here. I think they are all lazy people, though, and until their world is back to where it was, it's easier for them to remain here, and be fed, taken care of."

Severus heaved a dramatic sigh. "I, personally, would like to inflict physical pain on the two. I also want each to feel the frustration, the impotence, of being alone against larger, more numerous, stronger foes. If we were to bring them to the Room of Requirement, for example, and spend some hours delivering a beating, and some physical terror, we could heal them sufficiently that they'd be able to go about their day. I could obliviate them before we return them to their tent, so they'd not really know why they had aches and pains."

Sirius was shocked to find himself in agreement with his former nemesis. He cringed within himself as he realized that the description of the Dursley's behavior mirrored most of the Marauders interactions with Severus himself long years ago, at least in terms of many against one. "I agree with you, Severus," he offered. "We should do this tonight."

All three joined in a quick strategy session. Not surprisingly, it was agreed that Severus was to handle the extraction, movement within the castle, repair and obliviation and the return to the tent, and Sirius and Remus planned out the events in the Room of Requirement, with Severus' only condition being that he get to take the first swings at each. Sirius was about to give Severus an argument on that, stressing his relationship to Harry as his godfather, when a well-placed jab of an elbow from Remus into his midsection distracted him.

In not much more than a few minutes, the three left Harry's offices and returned to Albus' office, to rejoin the festivities. They hadn't even been missed.

When the gathering broke up for the evening, Severus walked with Harry back to the dungeons. Harry was surprisingly excited about having met the Queen, and very pleased to have been there to watch the Headmaster reveal and explain his various artifacts to her and the Prince. He described the various items that were shown to them, and their reactions.

"It was like I imagine having your family come to visit, and seeing their reaction to the fantastic things here," he explained.

Ah, that did answer some questions. Harry would never have the chance to show off his world to his own muggle family on such a friendly basis, so he experienced the revelation of the magical world through the eyes of the Queen. At least he seemed quite pleased about the matter.

"Are you feeling any after-effects, Harry, from earlier?" Severus asked as they entered the parlor.

"You mean from seeing Uncle Vernon and Dudley?" he replied. "No, not really. For once, I wasn't outnumbered. I knew I was safe from them."

Severus could not understand why his eyes suddenly stung so. Certainly, it had nothing to do with the fact that Harry had faced down what had to be some of his more significant demons and was unperturbed, secure in the belief that he, and Remus and Sirius would protect him. How he wished he could deliver on that confidence in every instance, and truly keep Harry safe!

"That's good to hear, then. Nonetheless, it has been a very eventful day, and I think a dose of dreamless sleep before bed would be appropriate, lest any of those unpleasant events get into your dreams and disturb your sleep."

Harry had turned into him in the middle of the parlor, and was pressing his body against him, stretching up to nuzzle his neck, clearly hoping for something other than immediately falling asleep when they went to bed. Severus returned the hug and bent his head down to nuzzle Harry's neck as well, eliciting a moan from his bondmate. Soon, the hugging and nuzzling has progressed to kissing and groping, the point at which Severus simply swept Harry up into his arms and carried him to the bedroom.

As he gently placed Harry onto the bed, Severus found his wand and conjured up the big bathtub they had enjoyed many times before, filling it with warm, bubbly water. He felt a bit conflicted and cynical has he stripped out of his clothes and watched Harry peel off his own. A bath would give them time for intimacy and pleasure, but it required just a finite amount of time. He wanted this time with Harry, of course, but he had to get Harry to bed and asleep with a potion in time to collect the Dursleys for their visit with Remus and Sirius.

As Harry eased himself into the warm water, and stretched himself out to rest between Severus' legs, he observed "You really are worried about me being upset, aren't you? Well, that was probably the first time Uncle Vernon and Dudley came at me like that when I knew they would not be able to do anything to me. I knew you'd stop them, of course, as would Remus and Sirius, I'm sure, but I also knew that I could use my own magic to stop them. It felt, I don't know, good? Strong? Like I was in control."

Severus had begun to gently massage Harry's shoulders as he spoke, and he kept it up as he replied. "I imagine you felt empowered, no? But you've always had the option of using your magic, if you were threatened."

"Last time I exercised that option, I had a trial before the entire Wizengamot and was nearly expelled. No, thank you. The beatings were temporary, and I have realized since I've been here that with magic in me, I seem to be able to recover faster than muggles. Madam Pomfrey told me I had a few bones that had been broken and allowed to heal incorrectly when I got here, so she fixed them up for me. I never realized anything was broken – within a few days, I was always healed."

Severus eyes were blazing black as he listed to this. Oh, those muggles were going to pay for this!

"Anyway, they mostly left me alone, which was fine with me. Since I got to Hogwarts, Mrs. Weasley always sent me packages with food over the summer, and I kept those hidden in my room. Even if I was supposed to be going for days without food as punishment for something Dudley framed me for, I had something tasty stashed away."

Any notions of leniency for the younger Dursley went out the window with that observation.

"So, what exactly did you do to Uncle Vernon and Dudley? What did that spell do, to make him shut up and turn all purple?"

Severus really wanted to change the subject; he had no desire to spend his time naked and lounging with Harry in a warm bath, discussing his despicable muggle relatives. "Just a little constriction of the airways. It comes on when he attacks you in any way, verbally or physically, and it persists until he backs down. Just like your Aunt can avoid social embarrassment by keeping her mouth shut, they can breathe easy if they behave. It's all on them, actually."

With that, Severus definitely changed the subject. He abandoned his ministrations to Harry's shoulders and began working his way down his chest and torso, while nibbling gently on the spot where Harry's neck connected to his shoulders, a spot he knew drove Harry to distraction. Harry began to squirm as he tried to hurry Severus along to what he assumed was his final destination, and moan when he felt the gentle bites at the base of his neck. He also felt the nudge of Severus' own arousal and tried to reach behind himself to fondle Severus, but Severus held Harry fast against his chest, and did not allow his hands anywhere near his erection. Finally, Severus reached between Harry's legs and began stroking and pumping the leaking erection he found there. Harry did not last long under the barrage of pleasurable sensations. He arched his back and exploded in Severus' hand, finally sagging limply in his bondmate's arms.

Severus continued to nibble gently on Harry's neck as he recovered his senses and got his breath back. When Harry was able to think clearly, he pivoted in place so he could reach Severus' face, and pulled the man into a long, deep kiss.

Harry finally stood up and stepped out of the tub, choosing a large, fluffy towel with which to dry off. When he was dry, he selected a fresh towel and helped Severus stand, batting his hands away when he tried to take the towel from Harry. "No, it's your turn now. Hands away from your side, I'm doing the drying here." Gently and very painstakingly, Harry blotted the bathwater from Severus' skin, occasionally planting a kiss on a freshly-dried patch. He worked his way from Severus' arms down his shoulders and torso, deliberately ignoring his erection to focus instead on his butt, and then between and down Severus' legs.

Finally, Harry was ready to address the only spot that had not been thoroughly and carefully dried. He took Severus by the hand and led him back to the bed, getting him settled comfortably on his back. A quick, gentle kiss went on his lips, followed by a series of kisses on his chin, down his neck, various places on his chest (with a small bite to his right nipple, earning him a noise that was something between a growl and a moan), and his stomach. When Harry was reasonably certain that Severus was near to bursting, he finally took him into his mouth. Harry wasn't quite able to swallow Severus whole, but he did a very admirable job, and when he began to fondle his balls as he sucked, he pushed Severus right over the edge.

Harry retrieved a small towel from near the bathtub and dipped into the cooling water, wringing it out carefully. As Severus continued to recover from a dizzying release, Harry gently wiped him clean. He finally stretched out on his side next to Severus, pushing Severus arm up to serve as a pillow so he could press himself fully against Severus' body. He gently pushed Severus hair away from his ear, and he alternated nibbles to his earlobe with little forays of his tongue into his ear, earning further growls from Severus for his efforts.

"You are quite an amazing young man, Harry," was all Severus was able to say, as he finally found his voice again.

"I'm not going to change my mind, you know," Harry whispered.

"I suspect that to be the case, but it is not your 17th birthday yet, so we don't definitively know that for certain yet. We are going to wait," came the whispered reply.

Fortunately, Harry was in a good mood despite Severus' annoying insistence that certain activities were going to have to wait. He accepted the vial of Dreamless Sleep potion as he and Severus adjusted themselves under the bedcovers for sleep.

Except of course that Severus was not going to sleep.

He waited until he heard Harry's breathing become deep and steady, and then a few moments more to be sure he was sound asleep. Only then did Severus get out of bed and with a wave of his wand, dress again in the clothing that he'd peeled off a while before.

A quick Lumos in the sitting room established that he had half an hour to get the two Dursleys to the Room of Requirement. They were going to have a late night session with some wizards who really did not like the manner in which they'd treated the magical child who had been placed in their home years ago.

Severus swept through the castle – he did enjoy the place late at night, no snotty students and annoying faculty about. Even now, with the castle crowded with guests, a post-midnight stroll was a solitary experience. He was out in the yard by the guest tents in mere minutes, and his wand pointed him to the tent occupied by the Dursley family. How fortunate; it was at the edge of the large cluster of tents, no doubt to ensure an unimpeded view of the sky from the windows.

Severus wanted the fear to begin here. As he entered Dudley's room, he cast a silencing spell around him as he rousted the whale-sized young man from his bed. Dudley was befuddled by sleep, but snapped to attention when he saw the malevolent face of Harry's boyfriend (according to his mother) looming over him, instructing him to get out of bed, this instant. He called for his mother and father, but discovered that he made no noise. The man snarled in amusement as he became agitated, trying harder and harder to summon help, but making no sound. Severus roughly led Dudley into the sitting room, and cast an Immobulus spell to keep him in place while he brought the father to join him.

Extracting Vernon from a double bed without waking his wife would have to be handled a bit more carefully. A sleeping spell was directed to Petunia, a strong one that would not be broken until he returned her husband later. Only then did he cast a silencing spell around Vernon, so his cries would not disturb the peace in the tent community. Finally, he grabbed Vernon's arm in a vise-like grip and dragged the confused muggle out of his bed.

Vernon, not surprisingly, resisted strenuously.

"Unhand me, you freak! There must be laws against such intrusions into our rooms, and I'll see that you pay for this! Leave us alone! At once!" His frustrations grew as he realized, in short order, that Severus was paying no attention to his protestations and did not even seem particularly worried about them, Severus was shockingly stronger than he would have expected, and all of his yelling and screaming did not seem to be waking Petunia.

Severus succeeded in dragging Vernon into the sitting room, where he became incensed anew at the sight of his precious Dudley huddling near tears in the center of the room. "What have you done to my boy, you fiend? Release me this instant, and leave these rooms immediately!" he bellowed imperiously, if silently.

Severus casually flicked his wand with an Immobulus spell to hold Vernon in place.

"The shoe is on the other foot, as I believe you muggles like to put it. You are in for a fine evening, I assure you. You will have the wonderful opportunity to experience the world that you created for Harry. You will be treated with all the care and gentleness that you showed him as a member of your family. I, for one, can't wait. Neither can Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. You might remember them, Vernon, as I believe you met them at Lily and James' wedding. Black is Harry's godfather – did you know that? Oh, they can't wait to see you. They're waiting in the castle." Severus spoke conversationally, with great restraint. He wanted to be sure the two quivering blimps heard him, and understood vaguely that something awful awaited them.

"Shall we go, then?" Severus inquired sarcastically. He cast a magical rope that bound the two together, and adjusted the Immobulus spell holding them in place to allow them to walk. He took hold of the rope and dragged the two out of their tent.

As they reached the door to the castle, a Viking appeared. It was clear that Vernon wasn't entirely sure if this was a good thing or bad: anything that enabled him and Dudley to get away from Severus had to be better than being dragged off to the castle where who knows what awaited them, but those Vikings were rather frightening all on their own. Vernon's hopes turned out to be for naught.

"Good evening, Severus," the huge man greeted their captor. "Is all well?"

"Good evening to you as well, Alrik. These are Harry Potter's uncle and nephew; Remus, Sirius and I want a private word with them." Severus had shared a few vague details of Harry's family life with his sister when they'd visited earlier this afternoon, and was trusting that his sister had shared some of those details with her husband. She had. Alrik clenched his fists upon hearing who they were, and peered at them with menace enhanced by his nearly seven-foot height and massive brawn. Dudley was whimpering, and Vernon was trying to yell for help, but of course unable to muster any noise at all.

"This is them, huh? Do you need any help getting them inside? They seemed to be resisting you a bit there."

"No, thank you, Alrik, I can manage. If I need help, I know I can call on you," Severus continued. He hadn't planned on encountering a Winter Lands warrior, but was so pleased that Alrik appeared when he did, and to such wonderful effect! These two had now experienced the shattered hope of encountering an authority figure who they expected to provide help, who instead aligned himself with their tormentor. Perfect.

Severus resumed his task of dragging the resisting muggles into the castle and down the corridors to the Room of Requirement.

There was a door in the wall, so he knew that the Marauders had arrived and were awaiting their guests. He pushed the massive oak door in, and dragged Vernon and Dudley into the room. The door slammed of its own volition after they'd entered.

Severus looked around, to see what the Marauders had decided was "required" for this evening's meeting. Not much, it seemed. The room was apparently empty, and its large size was enhanced by lighting that was concentrated in the middle of the room, with darkness disguising the depths to which it extended on the three sides away from the door.

Remus and Sirius walked out of the shadows on opposite sides of the room to greet the new arrivals. Severus had to give them credit – the overhead lighting created a very sinister mood, and made the two Marauders look particularly menacing. They weren't large men, certainly none of them came anywhere near to the bulk of either Dursley, but the way they moved conveyed agility and power.

Remus stopped in front of Vernon. Severus had to agree with the tactic of having Remus take the lead here. He had the calmest disposition. There was no way anyone could expect Sirius to keep his temper and stay on topic with these people. Remus was also taller than either Dursley, giving him the advantage of height from which to look down on them.

"Vernon Dursley, I wonder if you remember me? Remus Lupin – we met at the wedding of Petunia's sister Lily, and James Potter." Gesturing to Sirius, he continued, "And Sirius Black, who was also at the wedding? Possibly you've seen the WANTED posters with his image? Although he's been exonerated of the crimes for which he was wanted. Of course, you're already acquainted with Severus Snape."

The three stood together now, shoulder to shoulder, before the Dursleys. Vernon was a deep pink, with fear evident on his face, his little eyes wide. Dudley was beyond fear – he was terrified, and tears were already rolling down his cheeks.

"What? You can't speak? Can't move?" Remus continued. "Severus, I think it would be a good idea to remove the spells – the room is soundproof, and they aren't going anywhere."

With a nod, Severus waved his hand, and his silencing and immobilizing spells were gone. He also removed the spell he'd imposed earlier from their airways. He wasn't entirely sure what was going to happen, but felt it was probably best for them to be able to breathe, no matter what transpired at this point.

Vernon reacted loudly to finally regaining his voice. "What is the meaning of this? I demand that you freaks release us immediately! I'll call the police! I'll call my solicitor! You'll pay for this! How dare you abduct my son and me from our beds? An outrage!"

Sirius could resist no longer. With his own face full of unbridled rage, he got right into Vernon's face and began to scream himself. "Oh, there will be payment made tonight, Dursley, of that I assure you. But it will be you and your son who do the paying, for the atrocious way you have treated Harry! A small child, an orphan, was placed into your home for care, and you abused him. You, your wife and your son are the freaks."

Remus placed a calming hand on Sirius' shoulder, hoping to remind him that this war of words was not the point of the evening's encounter. Sirius stepped back a few paces, still visibly seething. "I don't want to hear him, Remus," he said as he waved his wand.

Severus' eyebrow arched at the result of Sirius' spell. Most inventive. Instead of a mundane silencing spell, Sirius had made their mouths disappear. Both Dursleys were facing forward, and reacted initially with frustration at discovering that once again they could not make noise. But when they looked at each other and understood the reason for their enforced silence, they both edged toward full-on hysteria.

Remus nodded at Severus as he guided Sirius off to the side again.

Severus stepped in front of Vernon, who was trying to shove his son behind him to protect the boy.

"Don't worry, Vernon. I'm interested in you right now. We'll deal with that lump later," Severus muttered, as he grabbed for a handful of Vernon's pajama top. Vernon shoved Dudley back, and immediately sprang into the defensive boxing moves he'd learned years ago in Smeltings.

Severus took a moment to analyze the moves and determine the strategy of this muggle activity, and concluded quickly that it bore a rather direct relation to his own sport of the sword. The goal was to avoid or attack with fists, rather than unsheathed swords. There was something wonderfully primal about that, the very direct opportunity to sink your fist into your opponent's face or gut. With an evil smile, Severus flexed his hands into fists that he held in front of his face, and he joined the match.

The two men circled each other. Vernon looked wary, but arrogant. He'd been a champion boxer in his last year at Smeltings, and was confident that he still "had it." He moved with rather surprising agility for such a large man. Severus was mimicking what Vernon did, to get a feel for the tempo of this endeavor. Vernon sent a few jabs his way, which Severus, even more agile and with far less bulk to move around, easily avoided. When Severus finally aimed his fist into the massive belly, he experienced a feeling of great satisfaction as he connected. He immediately followed that punch with an even more satisfying one to Vernon's face, which was accompanied by a crunching sound that probably was Vernon's jaw breaking.

But that was it. Vernon crumpled into a very large heap and did not move again.

The three wizards stood around him, wondering what had happened. Severus cast a diagnostic spell, which confirmed that he'd broken the man's jaw. His vital signs were within acceptable range for a muggle, but the man was unconscious.

"Well, that was disappointing," Severus observed, flexing his fingers. "Let's fix him up, and see if we can wake him." With a wave of his wand, Sirius's spell was undone, and Vernon's mouth reappeared, and a further wave of the wand repaired his jaw. A few not-so-gently slaps to his face failed to rouse him.

"Maybe he fainted?" Sirius suggested. He pointed his wand at Vernon and spoke "Aguamenti," causing a torrent of cold water to flow from the wand into Vernon's face. That did the trick, as Vernon immediately began to sputter.

Severus stepped aside, signaling to Remus and Sirius that he was done, and it was their turn. If the man could have fought him, Severus would have gladly continued the fight, but it was clear that Vernon was not capable of putting up any resistance. Landing those two punches had felt quite wonderful, and at least momentarily it felt good to realize he'd knocked Vernon out cold. But continuing the fight meant he'd have to continually repair and revive the man, and there was no great pleasure or sport in that.

Vernon staggered to his feet, and seemed unaware that he'd put up such a poor showing in the fight with Severus. He seemed almost proud as he saw Severus walk away. Then he realized that both Sirius and Remus were pointing their wands at him.

"Aren't any of you real men? Fighting with sticks? Not your fists?" he dared them.

That was all they needed to hear. They each unleashed a barrage of spells at Vernon, who began to run a broken pattern around the Room of Requirement desperately trying to avoid the hexes that kept hitting him. He felt as if a swarm of bees had attacked him with every stinging hex that struck him, and the stinging lingered. He was tripped, pulled one way, pushed the other. At one point, he could have sworn that his own snot had been propelled out of his nose and was attacking his face.

After what felt to Vernon like hours of torment, he simply collapsed. He did not faint this time, but he could simply no longer move. He was panting, and sobbing, and groaning.

The three wizards assembled again to inspect the heaving mess. Severus cast a diagnostic spell and shrugged. "Nothing seems to be physically wrong here."

"This is quite a disappointment," Sirius observed, echoing Severus' statement earlier. "Why in Merlin's name do Death Eaters even bother with muggles? This is no fun at all!"

Severus leveled a look at Sirius. "It is my understanding that there is no real sport involved in tormenting muggles, as I think we've established for ourselves here. Some enjoy the torment for its own sake, of course. And muggles can provide lighter amusement, to those inclined that way."

To illustrate, Severus levitated the blob off the floor into the air above their heads. He turned Vernon on his head, and spun him about like a top, then he extended Vernon's arms and legs and cartwheeled him about. Finally, he bounced him up and down as if he was a puppet on a string. Vernon was finally deposited back on the floor in the position from which he'd been taken. He hadn't been able to so much as mutter in protest to what had been done to him.

Severus shrugged. "Not much entertainment value there, in my opinion."

Remus and Sirius looked at each other, and then at Severus. They had to nod their agreement. This had been such a let-down.

"We aren't finished this evening, in any event. We still need to deal with Mr. Dudley Dursley," Severus reminded them. Dudley was huddled, mouthless and teary-eyed, back by the door, to which he'd retreated when the wizards addressed his father.

Severus led the group over to stand around the cowering young man, and spoke as if describing a specimen in a jar. "This one is the bully, the tormentor. He regularly blamed Harry for his own misdeeds, so Harry was subjected to punishments that should have been his. He put Harry down in every possible way, looking for every opportunity to hurt or humiliate him. He liked to surround himself with a group of like-minded bullies, and they would go preying on smaller children. It was usually four against one, three if they were feeling brave or the one they sought to torment was particularly small and weak. I think it is quite prophetic, really, that we find ourselves here, three of us, one of him. Don't you all agree?"

Severus waved his wand to restore the young man's mouth, which was promptly employed in begging and pleading to be let alone.

Sirius crouched in front of Dudley for a closer look. "You know, I think I prefer the arrogant old bastard, to this whining wretch. What do you suggest, Severus?"

Severus was momentarily amused at the absurdity of one of the Marauders, a veritable bullying machine in its day, asking him, their favorite target, for advice on how best to torment a muggle bully. Ah, well it was Black doing the asking, never the sharpest knife in the drawer.

"I propose that we do to Dudley what he would do to Harry, if he and two of his colleagues found Harry on his own. Of course, as we have magic, this will probably hurt our target a bit more, but that can't be helped."

Severus stepped forward and pulled Dudley to his feet, and began peppering him with a series of small punches. Dudley didn't like that, and pulled away, only to find himself within reach of Remus, who repeated the process, finally causing Dudley to pull away again, allowing Sirius to take his shots. They proceeded in this manner, taunting Dudley and peppering him with punches so light they wouldn't even produce a bruise, until the young man broke down in heaving sobs, pleading for them to stop.

Severus looked down at Dudley. "Now, let's see. If I'm correct, normally at about this time, Piers Polkiss would step in and hold your victim for you, so you could get in some good punches while your victim was defenseless. Isn't that right, Dudley?"

Dudley was too busy sobbing and pleading to respond, so Severus repeated himself. "I said, isn't that right, Dudley? Don't think you can get away with not responding, young man."

Dudley couldn't even meet Severus' eyes – he just mumbled "Yes."

That admission got the attention of the others. Even at their worst, the Marauders would never have considered such a cowardly tactic.

Severus drew his wand, and launched a stinging hex at Dudley, who squealed and lumbered away, much like his father had done. The three wizards didn't even have to move from where they stood to launch volley after volley of spells at him, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to avoid them.

Dudley finally had enough running, and tried to turn on Sirius, no doubt because he was the smallest in the lot. Drawing on his own boxing prowess, he tried to take Sirius down with a roundhouse punch to the head, which Sirius dodged. "At last, some gumption! Of course, you can't hope to actually land a punch on me, but let's see you try," Sirius taunted. After Dudley had swung and missed half a dozen times, Sirius took advantage of his own prowess with swords, and easily snuck in under Dudley's defenses and landed a knock-out punch of his own.

Severus shook his head as he ascertained that nothing had been broken. "Just a bump to the head; he'll wake soon," he confirmed.

"I'll hurry him along then," Sirius volunteered, using an Aguamenti spell to douse the son with cold water just as he had the father.

While the young man sputtered and moaned, the three wizards convened a small meeting of their own, ignoring Dudley, and Vernon, who had waddled over to comfort his son.

"This was a complete waste of time," Sirius complained. "There was absolutely no sport in going after them! Despite the fact that they are most likely the two most despicable muggles we are ever to meet, they are defenseless against us. I was looking forward to getting back at them, for all that they did to Harry. I wanted to make them suffer for the years of abuse they inflicted. But they are no match, no match at all, for even one of us."

"How could you expect a muggle to give one wizard, let alone three powerful wizards, a fair fight?" Remus asked. "I don't think this was about us, though."

Sirius looked puzzled, as Severus smiled. "No, I certainly didn't expect to get any satisfaction with the odds stacked like this. But I did want Harry's relatives to experience the way they treated Harry." He spoke a bit more loudly at this point, to be sure that his comments were heard by those relatives. "To be able to tell Harry that his uncle took just one punch to the gut and one to the jaw and was out cold. That he got a stinging hex to the bottom that brought tears to his eyes. And a Bat-Bogey Hex that scared him half to death. And that Dudley cried and blubbered when he had to face three tormentors, all of whom were smaller than him and not even punching him hard. And wet himself when we started sending spells at him."

They all looked over at the young man, now crimson with embarrassment, and at the tell-tale dampness on the front of his pajama bottoms. Dudley and his father looked totally defeated. There had to be something in that.

Severus got his charges standing and trussed again in magical ropes for the walk back to their tent. Before they left, Sirius cast a silencing spell so he, Remus and Severus could have a private word.

"I thought we were going to obliviate the uncle and cousin, and that Harry wasn't to be aware of this little gathering, Severus," he said pointedly.

"Don't worry, Black," Severus replied silkily. "They'll be obliviated and won't recall exactly what went on here. And I made sure Harry took a sleeping potion and was fast asleep before I left our rooms to come here. I have no intention of telling Harry about this. But I am certain it is their worst nightmare to be shown as cowardly and ineffective to Harry. And they'll always have a nagging suspicion that somehow he might know that about them."

Remus chuckled. "You always were a very worthy adversary, Severus, and now I'm beginning to understand why."

X X X X X X X X X X

Half an hour later, as Severus was once again stripped and settling into his bed beside his sleeping bondmate, Severus smiled into the darkness.

It had been a surprisingly glorious day. The muggles waking was neither here nor there to him, personally, but that figured in the feeling he had right now.

Harry's statements to the Queen about their relationship were as affirming and revealing as they were inappropriate. He was still stunned hours later by the depth of the young man's apparent feelings for him.

The high he still felt from as his time with Harry earlier in the evening was an amazing feeling. Harry's 17th birthday couldn't arrive soon enough for him. He knew it would be memorable.

There was a satisfaction in knowing that he taught the Dursleys a lesson, too. They'd experienced what Harry had at their hands. They felt the frustration and fury of being subjected to dismissive and punitive behavior that they were powerless to fight. And, in truth, it had felt good, very good, to sink his fist into the massive girth of the uncle and see his eyes bulge ever so slightly in surprise, before he went into a cold faint.

And finally, perhaps most unexpectedly, was the realization that he'd been a challenge, all those years ago, to the Marauders. His teenage self would have been appalled at the way he felt right now, but he realized that, for all their efforts, the Marauders had never actually beaten him. They made his life a living hell at times, but he always gave at least as good as he got. He savored now the belated realization that they knew it.

He slipped into slumber with his arms around Harry and a satisfied smile on his face.


	40. Ch 117 New Beginnings

Chapter 117 – New Beginnings

Albus was surprisingly accurate in predicting that it was wise for the muggles at Hogwarts to stay there for a week or two before returning to their homes. Things did not return to rights in the muggle world quickly, despite the preparations and efforts of so many in the magical world.

There was a tremendous outpouring of grief over the unavoidable tragedies that accompanied the sleeping spell's original casting. After all, hundreds of airplanes had crashed, there were thousands of fatal automobile accidents, there were fires, there were boat wrecks. The mourners who awoke to these losses needed time to grieve before they were able and ready to rejoin the world productively.

The magical world pitched in to be sure that the food, energy, water and other necessities were at hand as soon as the muggles were awake, and made sure that the muggles picked up their part as they became available. It took careful and discrete guidance from behind the scenes to manage through absences and disruptions, lest the work be undone by open spots.

The Royals had relocated to Balmoral Castle within a day or two, a move made easier for all when Albus learned that the Hogwarts house elves loved the place. A prior owner had been a wizard and the house elves immediately recognized that their kind had lived there happily in the past. The Royals were amid their familiar surroundings, and their meals served and other needs met by unseen house elves rotating over to the nearby castle.

As muggles resumed their lives, and reconnected with their daily routines, the initial period of quiet acceptance of the presence of magic in the world did not last long at all. The anti-magic backlash was strong and powerful, once it started. Agitators were quick to question the intentions of the wizarding world, provoking suspicion and paranoia. The wizarding community had to take special precautions, and many who had been active in their support of the return of the muggle world to normal retreated back to their unplottable or shielded communities as quickly as they could.

It was good to have Balmoral Castle staffed and functioning, because the messages from the princes had to be expanded quickly to get ahead of the growing suspicion, distrust and overt hostility about magic and magical people. The studio that had been set up to tape the initial message from the princes and Harry was put to use again almost as soon as the Royals returned there.

The Queen was persuaded to tape a message herself, as was her son. And the princes invited their friend, Harry, to tape several further messages with them, to put a face that could belong to the boy next door in any muggle community before the people of Britain as the image of a magical person.

Britain was able to avoid the worst of the anti-magic marches and riots that occurred in some parts of the world, but there were still pockets of protests against magic and anyone perceived to have magic.

X X X X X X X X X X

One of the Death Eaters who had returned to their Dark Lord's side fished a knut out of his pocket to pay the owl who had delivered the morning Daily Prophet to Riddle Manor. The newspaper was presented, together with his morning tea and sweet bun, to Voldemort as he sat at the long table in the manor dining room. Voldemort opened the newspaper and even on his snake-like face, his shock was evident.

The Ministry was abandoning centuries of precedent, keeping the wizarding world shielded from muggles, and telling everyone about the magical world? He'd read about the efforts those damn fools at the Ministry were making to fix up the muggle world, but he'd never expected that they'd actually tell the muggles who they were and how they did it!

Harry Potter himself was speaking to muggles on television, identifying himself as a wizard? He was appearing in these public messages with members of the muggle Royal family, including the Queen herself? What in Merlin's name was going on out there? What was their angle?

Much more significantly, what did all this mean for him and his plans?

He had always assumed that his own threats to carry out attacks on or in front of muggles would be a weapon that he could wield against the Ministry, when the time came. He had expected that they would be frantic to keep him from doing anything that divulged the magical world to the muggles, but apparently that wasn't going to be the case.

Clearly, this new openness with the muggle world was part of the Ministry's plan. He needed to understand it more fully, to best adjust his own plans for maximum impact. He needed to know what they were telling the muggles.

Voldemort thought back to his last stroll into the village of Little Hangleton, trying to remember what shops he saw there. He was fairly certain that there was at least one, perhaps more, that likely sold newspapers, and possibly a store that sold televisions. The old manor had been wired for electricity by his father's family; he'd certainly had no use for it since he'd moved in. He wondered if the power still flowed, either in his own manor or in the caretaker's house by the edge of the property.

Despite the fact that the morning Daily Prophet had revealed stunning information that destroyed the plans he'd been working on for over a month now, Voldemort was in much better spirits when his breakfast ended than he'd been in for weeks now. He had a glimpse of the Ministry's strategy, which he'd not had before. He had some ideas as to how he could learn more about the entire situation, and this energized him. Scrapping plans a month in the making was not optimal, but in truth, they weren't very strong plans, anyway. He needed more information, and now he knew how to get it.

Alas, even in this era of openness between the muggle and magical worlds, his own appearance was such that he knew it was not advisable for him to stroll into town himself to do his own shopping. His loyal Death Eater was instructed how to dress to avoid drawing attention, provided with some muggle money, and dispatched into town to buy muggle newspapers and a television set.

X X X X X X X X X X

Cornelius Fudge had departed from the Ministry via floo, not sure how long panic and confusion would last there. It was critical that he not be stuck in the floo system when the Aurors realized he'd escaped, as one of the first things they'd do is shut it down, so he chose to floo just a few fireplaces away, to a public floo connection in a seedy pub on Knockturn Alley. He was hardly a denizen of Knockturn Alley himself, of course, but he'd been there once or twice over the years and had made a point of remembering the name of this particular pub. He knew it to be a place where people made a practice of not noticing things that did not directly involve themselves, and a place where people would never cooperate with Aurors or others from the Ministry.

Fudge was the only person who departed the Ministry that day for the Knockturn Alley floo, so he was alone as he stepped out into the pub. The regulars paid him no attention, and he quickly and anonymously made his way into the Alley proper. It was far from deserted, but as usual, the witches and wizards milling about the alley all kept their hoods up, and their eyes down as they shuffled along. He did the same. Even if someone did recognize him, he would be long gone before they could tell anyone.

Years back, as Cornelius had begun his political climb, he was making promises he knew he would never keep and alliances that he knew would crumble. It occurred to him that he would be amassing at least as many enemies as allies along the way of his rise in the Ministry. The vagaries of power meant that there could come a time when he could be in a great deal of trouble, and would need to disappear. His wife loved living in the splendor of their home in High Hill County, and he was fairly certain she'd never be willing to liquidate that to follow him into exile or hiding. He'd known for years that he needed to make other arrangements.

Rather uncommon for the old families he sought to emulate, title to the Fudge home was put in Emmaline Fudge's name alone. Likewise, a significant amount of the assets they accumulated during their marriage were in Emmaline's name alone. As he explained to his solicitor, in his line of work, fortunes could shift quickly, and he wanted to be certain the Emmaline and the children were never impacted by any political nonsense that might come his way.

Emmaline never knew it, but an equally significant amount of assets, accumulated mostly though bribes and payments otherwise not in any records, were stashed in various accounts and safe places known only to Cornelius. Some of those funds had been used to acquire a small home in a muggle community near Abbeville, in the Picardie region of France, across the English Channel and just within range of Cornelius' ability to apparate. It was to that house that he apparated as soon as he arrived in Knockturn Alley.

The house in Abbeville was on the border of the commercial part of town, an area he had selected for its lack of neighborliness or sense of community. He had a cleaning lady and gardener engaged to keep it presentable and create the impression of an occupied house. Through the years since he'd acquired it, his own visits were often as infrequent as once in six months, lasting sometimes for just a few minutes. However, as events had recently begun to turn against him, he'd been there more frequently, making sure it was ready to be used as a safe house should he have to bolt from England.

Cornelius heaved a great sigh of relief as he shrugged out of his hooded cloak and realized he'd truly escaped the prison cell at the Ministry. He poured himself a huge brandy as he set a fire in the large fireplace, and sat before it contemplating his new life and his new circumstances. He began planning his next moves. He was confident that his story did not end here. He was sure he'd be back in England as the Minister of Magic again – it was just a matter of time.

X X X X X X X X X X

Vernon and Petunia Dursley began making plans to return to Privet Drive the day after Vernon and Dudley woke up.

Vernon announced loudly when he awoke that day that he'd had an awful night's sleep, and Dudley agreed with him. For her part, Petunia had slept more soundly than she ever recalled sleeping.

"I think it must have been my relief at finally having you two back with me," she fawned. "I slept like a baby! Perhaps you two had already had too much sleep so you didn't rest as well. I'm sure you'll sleep better tonight."

"I am sure I'll sleep soundly once I'm back in my own bed. In my own house. Civilized people do not sleep in tents," Vernon observed dourly.

Petunia was tempted to point out that this tent had walls that looked just like plaster, and solid wooden doors, and all the other accoutrements of their civilized house back on Privet Drive, but she wisely held her tongue. Debating Vernon when he was in one of his moods was never a good idea.

"Well, come along, then. Breakfast! We can talk about returning home over some tea, and eggs, and sausage, and fresh bread." Even though none of them tasted food any longer, Vernon and Dudley still craved the experience of stuffing it into their faces, so Petunia's suggestion did get them out and moving to the Great Hall.

That day set a routine that the Dursleys followed for the duration of their stay at Hogwarts. As soon as Vernon and Dudley had stuffed their faces at breakfast, Petunia shuffled them out of the castle to the lawn. The first day out on the lawn was notable for the Dursleys first encounter with young witches and wizards on brooms, as one of the most popular of the summer activities was Madam Hooch's Broom Safety program. She and members of the House quidditch teams (and assorted others who wanted an excuse to spend the days on their broomsticks) had created the program for the purpose of teaching youngsters not yet old enough to attend Hogwards the rudiments of flying.

Dudley was the first to realize that those things in the air off in the distance were not large birds.

"Mummy, over there – are those people, and are they flying?" he'd asked, pointing off to the very bottom of the sloping lawn, something that came close to awe in his voice.

"Yes, most likely, darling. These people do, indeed, ride broomsticks. There seems to be some game that they are all dotty about – it looks vaguely like soccer in the air, but I don't know the rules. They love to fly. I'd heard that they were going to have a summer program for the magical children staying on in the castle, and that looks like it. The woman with the gray hair is a teacher here, and it looks like older students are working with her. Do you want to wander down for a look?"

Dudley was fascinated with the flying. Little children were being helped onto small broomsticks that stayed low to the ground, walked around by an older student, almost like when he learned to ride a bike and his mother walked along holding him upright. Others, a bit bigger and more skilled, were actually up in the air moving about, while older children and some adults hovered in the air watching them. Off to the side, it looked like some sort of game was underway, as students were darting all over and there was a large ball being tossed about.

While Vernon was still extremely opposed to anything unnatural, even he was curious. "Well, Pet, they are still freaks, but that is unlikely to be something we'll be seeing once we go back to Privet Drive. Let's go down under those trees, and we can watch them for a while, from a distance."

The threesome sat beneath some tall trees, where house elves had placed some tables and benches, and watched in wonder (despite himself, Vernon was mesmerized by the effortlessness with which the witches and wizards darted about on their brooms). Petunia found a pitcher of frosty butterbeer on the table in midmorning, as well as a samovar on a nearby table, perpetually filled with piping hot tea. She and Vernon enjoyed the familiar brew, while Dudley sampled the icy, frothy (if tasteless, to him) beverage.

They took lunch outside, slightly more casual offerings than were available in the Great Hall, but without the need for a claustrophobia-inducing walk through the dark, cool halls of the castle. As the afternoon began, Petunia suggested a stroll, and her family visited the shores of the lake one day, removing their shoes and socks to wade in the cool water, and the green houses on other days, to marvel at the strange and dangerous plants.

X X X X X X X X X X

Hermione was in heaven. She had a challenging research project, time to indulge it, and when she reached the limits of what she could extract from the Hogwart's library, the promise of access to even more books and records from either Madam Pomfrey's own library or through her, medical materials at St. Mungo's or even the Ministry. It didn't get better than this.

She'd spent Wednesday scouring the journals in the main library, and had used her access to that general research material to refine the criteria by which she sought out events that might have involved a transfer of magic to others. By the end of the day, she'd developed a checklist that enabled her to assess a news report and extract information for further investigation efficiently and quickly. She began deploying that Thursday as she began working in the material kept in the Restricted Section of the library. By the following week, she was a regular in Madam Pomfrey's office, poring over materials in her small medical library, and a few files had even been retrieved at her request from the records kept at the Ministry of Magic Infirmary.

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry began with work on wandless magic with the Headmaster right after breakfast on Thursday. An owl had dropped a note into his oatmeal that morning.

"Bloody menace," Ron grumbled, shooing the incompetent owl off, as Harry carefully wiped sticky oatmeal from the outside of the note. Hermione shushed Ron and offered the owl a piece of bacon. "What's up, Harry?"

"It's from Professor Dumbledore. He'd said before that he was going to start to teach me wandless magic, because of, well, you know. Better to control it, I guess. He's ready to start this morning, it seems."

A look of jealously flickered across Ron's face, met by one of annoyance from Hermione. They'd been over the fact that this was something no one would ever consider beginning at Harry's age for medical and magical reasons, as it was potentially dangerous and damaging to such a young wizard. This was a step that they were taking for Harry because he was more in danger from the accidental release of magic. Ron finally seemed to recall all that, and with a sheepish nod to Hermione, he calmed down.

"Wicked. You're going to tell us about this, right? I know we can't do it yet, but still. . . " Ron answered.

"Harry will keep us informed, but as we're at least twenty years away from safely doing this ourselves, instructions are not needed right now, Ron," Hermione observed, smiling at Ron's eternal role as "younger brother," even to someone actually a few months younger than him. His brothers had made a habit of rubbing in all the things they could do but he could not as he grew up, and it did seem cruel that even with his best mate, he was once again watching on the sidelines because he wasn't old enough. She was certain that Harry would not emulate the older Weasley boys and torment Ron with what he couldn't do, but it had to smart.

"Hey, we don't know that I'll be able to do this, you know?" Harry interjected. He smiled gratefully at Hermione, recognizing her effort to placate Ron. "I'll keep you posted on what we do, and how I'm managing. But don't expect much. This is supposed to be really hard. I have a lot of power, but as I understand it, using wandless is more about control, and that's never been my strong suit."

"Well, there'll always be a spot for you in the flying classes that Madam Hooch is organizing. I'll be helping out down there, so come by as soon as you can, then," Ron offered with a smile.

When Harry entered the Headmaster's office, he was pleased to see that Severus was already there. They were supposed to be learning this together, although he suspected that Severus might already know how to do it.

"Good morning, Sir," Harry greeted Albus, as he joined Severus in sitting across the desk from the Headmaster.

Albus steepled his fingers in front of him as he leaned back.

"Harry, I do hope I am not doing you any harm in what we are about to work on. I have asked Madam Pomfrey to check your magical pathways after this session, to monitor any negative effects. Severus will also be watching your pathways, as well. Most wizards can never master wandless magic, no matter how sturdy their magical pathways. They simply do not have magic strong enough to act, absent the use of a wand to truly focus what magic they have. Wandless magic requires that the wizard focus his magic with his mind, in a way just as you do when you point a wand and direct your magic now, but without the specific direction of the wand."

Harry listened thoughtfully, but with a certain dread. Yes, he had lots of magical strength, apparently, but focus and skill? Not so much. He wasn't entirely sure which of those aspects of his magical talents were primary in making this work, but it certainly seemed like this involved something that might not be his strongest asset.

"Severus, I believe you have learned some of this on your own already," Albus stated, not a question but a statement of fact. Severus nodded in acknowledgement. Nothing got past the old man's notice, even his own after-hours practice, it appeared.

"I observed the Dark Lord doing wandless magic, and investigated the process. He of course never offered me any instruction. I never observed any of his Death Eaters using wandless magic, so I gather he never offered this instruction to anyone. However, what writings I found on the subject would suggest that at least some of those surrounding Voldemort should be capable of doing this, and were of an age that it would not be imprudent to attempt it. However, even with research and investigation, I realized that this is not a subject best learned through study. Mastery requires tutoring and practice."

Albus nodded, pleased that Severus confirmed the importance of the role of an instructor in this subject. "What have you found you can do, wandlessly?"

"I have only worked with simple spells – accio, levitation, simple movement and intention spells. I recognized the damage I might do to myself in using wandless, and having no mentor, thought to limit my risk with spells that required minimal power and focus."

"Most wise of you, Severus. The first spells we teach students of wandless magic are, indeed, chosen because they are simple, and take little effort with even only slightly focused magic. I think we will all find that, with some instruction and practice, you and Harry can master wandless magic completely. I hope that when Harry finds this new way to access and use his magic, his mastery of this process will help him with overflow. Instead of experiencing spillage, the extra magic will simply go into wandless expression of his original intent."

Albus explained the process and watched as Severus and Harry attempted the tasks he set for them. As expected, Severus was already able to perform the simple spells. Harry took to wandless magic very quickly, surprising the others with the ease and speed with which he progressed.

Once the Headmaster had explained to him how to focus within himself and direct his magic, Harry felt that the process made total sense. He wasn't able to perform the spells on his first attempt, of course, but even each failed spell seemed to help him understand better how to approach this to make it work. By the end of the morning, to his own as well as the others' surprise, Harry had actually been able to summon a book off the Headmaster's desk into his own hands, wandlessly summoning it with the thought, "Accio!" Granted, that was a simple, first-year spell, and he had found it necessary to articulate the spell in his head, but to manage any specific task without a wand in the first lesson was remarkable.

When it was nearly lunchtime, Albus asked that they check with Madam Pomfrey in the Infirmary before joining the others for the midday meal. Severus ran a few scans of his own on Harry before they left, to get his own baseline. He found no wear to Harry's magical channels, unlike what had occurred when he sent out bursts of uncontrolled magic. If the mediwitch confirmed this, Severus would have greater confidence in the scans he ran as he and Harry practiced.

Madam Pomfrey had made her displeasure clear that Albus proposed to teach Harry, in particular, to use wandless magic, although she accepted his judgment that this was a skill that would likely prevent harm to him in the future. She ran her scans and scowled. "Are you sure you were using wandless magic? There is absolutely nothing remarkable about your magical channels – they read completely normal. After a first lesson in wandless, there is always a bit of stress."

Severus just grunted in reply. Silly woman, asking such a question! Although he was intrigued with Harry's rapid progress in using wandless magic and the fact that it did not have any impact on his magical channels. Most interesting.

Harry's mornings thereafter consisted of his wandless magic training sessions with the Headmaster and Severus. His afternoons, while his own, were often as not taken up with visits to Balmoral Castle to tape further messages to quell fears and panic in the muggle world, or consultations with representatives of the Ministry on a variety of muggle-related issues.

Harry found it very amusing that he was able to make valuable contributions to the Ministry's efforts primarily because he had grown up not knowing that he was a wizard. He wished that he'd had more exposure to the muggle world beyond his cupboard, the small bedroom and the yard at Privet Drive, but even what he'd learned at school and from the odd program he caught now and then on the telly was welcomed by the Ministry. He'd even interrupted Hermione's work in the Infirmary office a few times to get her thoughts and insights on things.

Harry was usually able to get down to the lawn by the late afternoons, for some flying with Ron and whoever was still out there. Sometimes, they flew out over the lake, other times, over the forest, and if enough people were around, a game of quidditch might get played.

Severus' afternoons were given over to finishing grading his year-end exams as quickly as he could. He was always anxious to be rid of any reminder of the time spent (wasted was perhaps a more accurate term) with his classes during the school year. Once he had delivered his grade report to Minerva, he was free to immerse himself in his own research.

He was fascinated with the speed with which Harry was mastering wandless magic, all without any damage to his magical channels. He had several theories as to why Harry was able to avoid every single potential harm from his study of wandless magic at such a young age. Naturally, he wondered whether any of the potions administered to Harry in the aftermath of the most recent "leakage" situation might have contributed to strengthening his channels.

While Harry's problem with massive bursts of uncontrolled magic pouring out of him was totally unique, magical channels were implicated in a number of magical maladies that were unfortunately far more common. Youngsters had their problems getting their magic to flow through their wands and singed their channels. Adults had spells backfire on them, whether because of a damaged wand or too much uncontrolled emotion when casting spells and damaged their channels. There were even a few illnesses that afflicted the channels, involving the formation of painful lesions or cramping, and one, fortunately rare, condition caused them to atrophy.

Beyond all that, Severus had noted that when he strained to produce a wandless spell, he felt a sensation running in the same places that he'd endured agony when subjected to the Cruciatus Curse. The wizarding medical establishment had always assumed that the Cruciatus Curse ran along nerves to inflict its excruciating pain. Severus had even developed some potions that calmed the nervous system for use in easing post-Cruciatus symptoms, but maybe the problem wasn't the nervous system. The nerves and magical channels ran along similar lines, but they were not the same. Far too many adult witches and wizards had endured the Cruciatus Curse and even some other "forgivable" but nonetheless very painful and damaging hexes and curses that inflicted profound and long-lasting damage. Might there be something more focused and appropriate to ease or even reverse that damage?

With thoughts of Miss Granger pursuing research in an uninvestigated area because the wizarding medical community had never drawn what now seem to be rather obvious conclusions from reported incidents, Severus was finally able to repair to his private lab with his own iconoclastic research agenda.

X X X X X X X X X X

Some issue at the Ministry required the Headmaster's presence in London in the middle of the next week, and Harry had his first chance to take Ron up on his invitation to join him at Madam Hooch's Broom Safety classes. He joined the ranks of quidditch-playing students who were monitoring the flying of the more adventurous of the youngsters, those who were climbing higher and flying faster than might have been prudent. The students had to be alert, as at least once a day, some fool-hardy young witch or wizard lost their grip or control of the broom and had to be caught as they fell from the sky.

After Harry had plucked his fifth faller of the morning from free-fall, carrying the child safely back to earth on his own broomstick, Madam Hooch took him aside.

"Harry, I'm delighted to have you join us, and appreciate your willingness to pitch in. But I think we might need to move you to another role. I'm not sure if the children are distracted by your presence, or actually hoping to meet you, but they seem to be falling off their brooms at a disturbing rate to day, especially when they are in the area you are patrolling. Would you mind? I think we could use you on the ground with the little ones."

"Not at all, Madam Hooch," Harry replied. He suspected that the last faller had deliberately let go of her broom, and was not willing to rule out that one or two of the others could have easily stayed on their brooms had they wanted to. It was a good feeling to help someone who had an accident, but he was afraid that someone would get hurt unnecessarily, the way this day was going.

Harry waved to Ron, and walked over to the grassy area where the smallest children were nervously standing about with training brooms. One of the Ravenclaw Prefects, Charlotte something-or-other, was pairing students with children, and she started when she realized that Harry Potter was her next student volunteer.

Smiling at her shocked expression, he explained. "I was working with the more advanced fliers, but we seemed to have a sudden problem with fallers, and I'm not sure they all fell by accident. Madam Hooch suggested this would be safer for all concerned."

With a nod, Charlotte looked at her list. "It did seem to get a bit raucous up there I noticed. I have a nice little boy, scared half out of his wits about flying. He'd probably be thrilled to meet you and that might actually get him onto the broom. Harry Savoy his name is – over there." She gestured to a small three-year old standing alone, looking scared and miserable.

Harry nodded at Charlotte. "Harry Savoy it is, then. Thanks."

Big Harry approached little Harry and greeted the boy. "Hi, Harry, I'm Harry, too. Nice to meet you."

Without looking up, now in the throes of paralyzing embarrassment, the little boy mumbled "Hi."

Kneeling down to be at the boy's level, Harry asked, "So, what seems to be the problem here? Have you ever used a broom or a training broom before?"

The little head shook, a stand-in for a verbal response, "no."

"OK, there's a first time for everything. I remember the very first time I was on a broom, here at Hogwarts. It was fantastic. Are you scared?"

The little head stayed still, but the shoulders shrugged. A definite "maybe."

Big Harry was looking around to see how others were handling this. The training brooms were charmed to float a few feet above the ground without any magical input from the rider. His role would mainly be to coax the little one up onto the broom and then hold him steady as he walked the boy on the broom slowly around the lawn.

"Nothing to be scared about, Harry. I can pick you up and get you on the broom. You sit on it, and put your feet into the stirrups, which really hold you steady on the broom. If anything is uncomfortable, I'll put a good softening charm in place, no one will know. I'll hold onto you the whole time, so you can't fall off. Once you are seated and holding on to the broom, I'll walk you slowly, so you can get a feel for this."

With a very brave nod, little Harry agreed to be hoisted onto the broom, but he was not going to let go of big Harry's neck. It took the Harrys a few minutes, and several repositionings of arms and legs, but eventually, little Harry was seated properly on his broom, and big Harry was standing beside him, holding him firmly under the arms.

"Alright, then – you've got it, Harry! This is how to sit on a broom – your feet stay in the stirrups like that. It can eventually help you steer, but right now, you'll feel more secure, and you won't slide off the back of the broom when it moves. Squeezing tighter isn't going to solve anything – it's all about proper positioning and balance. Hands always on the broom in front, just like that. No fancy stuff, not until you know you are ready. When you are ready, it will all come naturally. For now, let's just move a bit."

Big Harry kept up the chatter to distract the frightened child as he took a few steps with the broom keeping pace alongside him. He could tell the boy wanted nothing more than to release the broom and get hold of him again, so he kept speaking and encouraging him, moving all the while.

Under the trees, Amaranth Savoy was sitting with the Dursleys, chatting away, oblivious to the looks of horror her story was garnering from Vernon and Dudley. She was clearly very pleased to have found her friend, Petunia, and was quite thrilled to meet the muggles, who surprised Petunia by being at least not rude. Petunia had to admit to herself, Amaranth was among the more "normal" of the magical people she'd met, and for some reason, she felt glad that her family was meeting the young woman.

"My Rose is doing just fine, she's already in an intermediate group. But my little Harry – he's just terrified of flying. We got him a training broom for Christmas this year, but he's afraid to use it. I tried helping him, but he just cries and cries. I asked the young lady running the program for little ones if maybe one of the older students might be able to help him. I worry about him."

Petunia shared her own story about helping Dudley learn to ride a bicycle, after first having to explain to Amaranth what that was. "He was a bit reluctant to let go of me, of course, but eventually, he found his balance and was comfortable on his own." Petunia tactfully omitted the part about Vernon installing a special pair of oversized training wheels he'd had machined at his shop; Dudley puffed up slightly at the version of this story his mother had shared.

The Dursleys had been watching the older students and their acrobatic moves high in the air, and had paid no attention to the actual classes, doing much less interesting things at a much lower altitude. As Amaranth had told them about Rose, they looked at the group to which she'd pointed, and observed children moving cautiously but deliberately just at the height of the smaller trees. When Amaranth told them about little Harry, they sought out the group at ground level working with training brooms. That was the hardest group to follow, as they seemed to be roaming all over, just getting the little ones used to being on broomsticks.

Petunia had mentioned that her family came down here to watch the flying in the morning, and took their lunch outside as well, and then visited either the lake or the greenhouses in the afternoons, so Amaranth directed her stream of conversation to cover observations about the plants in the greenhouse, the tools used there by those tending to the plants, and some of the uses to which those plants were put.

Amaranth was surprised by the gasps she got from Vernon and Dudley when describing the dragon-hide aprons and gloves. "Well, of course, dragon-hide is impervious to even the most corrosive saps and juices, so it's the best material to protect you and your clothes when you are working in the greenhouses. Some of those plants can get quite aggressive, and if they send out spores, or a tendril that you need to snip to get away from them, it's important to know you'll be safe from harm!"

Fortunately, before Amaranth could get around to telling about the Giant Squid or merpeople in the lake, which stories Petunia was reasonably sure would not be well-received by her family, it was lunchtime. The classes were disbanding, and those little children who had managed to stay on their brooms were being sent off on their brooms to find their parents. Little Harry, thrilled to have finally gotten the knack of staying upright on his training broom, wanted to fly over (at waist height) to his mother, with big Harry trotting along beside him, as the children had to be handed over to their parent by the student who'd been working with them.

Unfortunately, big Harry did not notice who little Harry's mother had been chatting with until he was right in their midst, keeping a hand on little Harry's shoulder as the youngster flew to his mother. He looked rather awkwardly at his aunt, uncle and cousin as he found Amaranth Savoy, to return her son.

"Uh, well, congratulations, Mrs. Savoy, Harry here is now able to fly on his training broom! Once he got the hang of it, he's been unstoppable. I stay with him, because it's his first day flying and all, but he knows the right way to sit, and how to hold on, and he's doing fantastic, right, Harry?"

The once shy child was beaming as his new friend tousled his hair, thrilled and proud of his accomplishment, and of the praise that had just been shared with his mother. For her part, Amaranth was totally star-struck.

"Oh, my! Harry Potter! I can't believe it, you worked with my little Harry! Oh, what a thrill this is, for both of us!"

The little boy was looking at Harry anew. "You're Harry Potter?" he asked, with wonder in his voice and his eyes big as saucers.

"Yep, that's me," big Harry agreed with a shrug. "I started working with older students, but I seemed to be distracting them. A few deliberately fell off their brooms because they wanted me to catch them, and we weren't going to allow that, so I moved along to the younger ones. I was happy when the prefect matching students with children pointed me to Harry here, as he looked like someone who could use a boost of confidence. I think you'll be a natural at this, Harry, when you get a bit older."

Amaranth gushed, "Mr. Potter, may we take a photo with you, please? I'll just summon my camera! Little Harry is named for you, you know. Such an inspiring story!" With her wand extended, she said "Accio, camera" and a few moments later, it flew into her hands. She arranged a photo with herself and little Harry standing on either side of big Harry, and with a wave of her wand, the camera clicked.

Amaranth was about to ask Petunia and her family to join them in a photo, but the look on Petunia's face told her this might not be as welcomed a gesture as one might hope. The Dursleys had visibly retreated from the celebration of young Harry's accomplishments, and were amazingly quiet as Harry spoke to Amaranth and little Harry.

Sensing that there was more going on than she might fully understand, Amaranth finally shook big Harry's hand a final time, and accepted his praise for her efforts in organizing the squib school, and led little Harry, now on his broom, off to find his sister, so they could return to their tent for lunch.

When they were gone, Harry turned to face his relatives.

Dudley was still processing some of the things Amaranth had said. That woman had named her son after Harry? She was so thrilled to meet him she wanted her picture taken with him? How could that be? He looked quite confused and uncertain.

Vernon looked menacing, as always, when he looked at Harry. Harry's own calmness seemed to rile Vernon. "You think just because we are surrounded by freaks, you can get away with anything, don't you, boy?" he growled.

Harry had no idea what he'd just "gotten away with" but he stood watching his uncle to see where this was going. He wondered if Severus had released the spell he'd placed on Vernon, as he did not seem to be experiencing any shortage of breath as he had a week ago in the Great Hall.

Vernon grinned an evil grin. "I hate you, boy. I wish that whoever took care of your dratted parents had completed the job with you. I wanted to turn you right over to an orphanage when we found you on our doorstep. We had a lovely little family and you ruined it! Your freakishness, strangeness – a blight on my happy home!"

Harry's calmness surprised even himself. He felt like he was outside his body, watching this little drama unfold, involving people he hardly knew. He realized that he truly did not care what his uncle thought or felt – that was totally irrelevant to him. He'd created a new life, his own life. He had a new family, and friends, everything he could want. He felt astonishingly free.

Vernon noticed the calmness, but reacted not with surprise but only more and greater rage. He raised his beefy hand, prepared to smack Harry in the face. For once, Harry neither flinched nor tried to flee; he stood there, calmly looking at his uncle, and froze the hand in mid-air. Vernon was initially confused – what was restraining his hand? He hadn't seen Harry take out his stick, so he couldn't have used magic. They needed those sticks to make magic work, didn't they?

Harry looked Vernon in the eye. "You'll be walking around with your hand up in the air like that for the rest of the day, Uncle Vernon. A bit awkward, I know, but you are never going to strike me again. I will not tolerate it, and I no longer have to. You cannot hurt me. Physically, I can, and will, prevent it. And I no longer care what you think. I am free of you."

Turning to Petunia and Dudley, Harry continued, "For your safety and comfort, feel free to stay at Hogwarts for as long as you want, but keep Uncle Vernon away from me. Let me know when you are ready to leave, and I'll be sure that the arrangements are made quickly to transport you back to Little Whinging."

Petunia looked very, very sad at these developments. She had known all along that Vernon would not be happy to find himself at Hogwarts, but it was a surprisingly interesting place, and she had found a few nice people here. He was just not willing to yield at all on this; he was intractable about hating magic, and it had gotten worse since he had awoken. She was just relieved that they'd gone this long before he acted up like this.

Dudley was still very confused, and he looked it, as he tried to reconcile the world he was seeing here with the world he knew back on Privet Drive, where Harry was an easy target, and his parents whacked him for any transgression Dudley thought to report to them. And now, when Harry apparently could use magic, he didn't try to get back at any of them. All he did was stop his father from hitting him. Dudley could not imagine why Harry wasn't pressing his advantage, as he was certain his parents would have done had the circumstances been reversed. This made no sense.

Petunia nodded at Harry and waved weakly as he pivoted to leave them. This was her family, after all. These were the people she loved, with whom she would be living once they left Hogwarts. Harry was not part of the equation any longer. She needed to keep her family together and happy until she could get them back to their familiar surroundings.

"Let's go back to the tent, shall we? Dudders, why don't you fill up some plates at the picnic table and bring them along. We'll eat as a family in our tent. It will be better there."

[Author's Note: This chapter represents a milestone that surprises me – the 40th chapter of my A/U continuation of The Marriage Stone! I appreciate all of you generous souls who take the time to acknowledge the effort with comments when I post a chapter. Your comments, suggestions, and criticisms have helped me improve my writing, and your encouragement means more than you know.]


	41. Ch 118 Happy Times

Chapter 118 – Happy Times

It hadn't been necessary for Petunia to ask for Harry's help in getting back to Privet Drive. To her family's great relief, the principal had announced at Friday night dinner that things seemed to be returning to normal in the muggle world now. If people wanted to return to their homes, it appeared that they could do so safely, secure in their ability to buy food at the local stores, petrol at the stations, and have the usual services available to them. She spoke to the little professor who'd hosted the people who had lived in dormitories, and the Dursleys were among the first issued a portkey to return home.

On Saturday morning, Petunia found her valise in her bedroom when she awoke. Vernon and Dudley had no suitcases, of course. It occurred to her that neither had even commented on the fact that the clothing they removed at night was right next to their beds the next morning, laundered, pressed and repaired, if necessary. Had they suspected magic? Had they even noticed?

As she gathered up what clothing and toiletries she'd brought with her, and the few small trinkets she'd bought on her visit to Hogsmeade, she found her leftover wizard money from the stash of big gold coins Harry had given her. She held them in her hand, pondering their heavy feel and strange symbols. Ought she leave them here in the tent? Give them to a professor or someone in charge to be returned to Harry? Or maybe take them with her, just in case? She knew there would be hell to pay if Vernon stumbled upon them back at Privet Drive, but something drove her to slip them into her toiletries case.

Professor Sprout arrived just moments after she'd put her packed valise in the hallway and joined Vernon and Dudley, looking out a huge bay window at the lake shimmering in the distance.

"Ah, good, you're all here. I've got your portkey, this is going to get you right back to Number 4, Privet Drive in Little Whinging. I gather this is new for you?" the little witch asked, looking from one to the other.

The silence that greeted her question was answer enough. "Alright, then. This is your portkey," she continued, offering up a small bottle cap of some sort. "Once you have all your items in hand, you all touch this at the same moment, say 'No. 4, Privet Drive,' and off you go. You'll be there in a few seconds. Expect a brief moment of feeling squeezed – it passes quickly, and then you're home."

Vernon looked highly suspicious of all this, but the opportunity to get out of this freak school as incentive enough for him to go along with it. He gallantly took the valise for Petunia, and the little professor handed him the bottle cap. Petunia and Dudley each touched the cap, and together they spoke "No. 4, Privet Drive."

With that, the Dursleys were gone from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

X X X X X X X X X X

Hermione was one of the earliest at breakfast that Saturday morning, having the Gryffindor table almost entirely to herself as she enjoyed her oatmeal. Her research on magical transference had been going very well. She'd exhausted the material available in the Hogwarts Library early in the week, and had gone through the specialty material that Madam Pomfrey kept at hand in her own small library in the Infirmary by the middle of the week. To her great pleasure, Madam Pomfrey was able to secure an invitation for her to use the Ministry of Magic Medical Research Library, which boasted one of the largest collections of historical medical archives and records in the world.

Mediwizards in England traditionally bequeathed their records to the Library on their deaths, so there was a very extensive historical record of all manner of observations, diagnoses and treatments. Records pertaining to living witches or wizards were spelled to obscure their names, but once the person about whom the record was created had died, their name was included, as well. That was very important to Hermione's research, as she was seeking to connect events that were not recognized as related when they occurred. The medical information was part of it, but there was usually a news article, or sometimes a criminal matter associated with the event that was equally critical to her work. Fortunately, the Ministry of Magic General Library was housed just one floor away from the Medical Research Library, and Hermione was becoming well known to the staffs of both.

Hermione used the floo still open near the Ministry annex at Hogwarts to get to the Ministry of Magic Medical Research Library, but was unable to stop at her designated floo so she was bounced, and ended up back at Hogwarts. Not entirely sure what happened, she next tried the public floos in the Ministry entryway, which were open at all times. She certainly was not alone in the Ministry that Saturday morning, but when she arrived at the second level, the location of the Medical Research Library, she found it closed. A quick trip to the third level, and the General Library, confirmed that while the General Library was open on Saturday morning, the Medical Research Library closed all weekend in the summer.

Resisting the urge to pout, Hermione used the few hours that the General Library was open that day to pursue a few leads she'd gathered from her research on Friday, before the staff informed her at noon that they were closing and would reopen on Monday morning.

She joined her friends at lunch on the lawn, and found plans under way for a party the next evening to celebrate Harry's birthday. Of course, she knew it was his birthday, and a big one – 17, the age of majority in the wizarding world – and of course she'd bought a gift for him some time ago. She thought it odd that Harry was sitting right there as they planned his party, but he explained, "Sirius asked Ron to organize it, and suggested that he ask me who to invite and such. I never actually had a birthday party like this, so it's great to be part of the prep, not just be surprised when I show up."

Harry was surprisingly easy-going, as his friends tossed out ideas for decorations and food, pretty much agreeing to whatever seemed to please the others. He initially was adamant, however, that just his good friends be invited, and that it be in the Gryffindor common room.

"I feel funny enough having a party, guys," he told them as he prepared to take a bite of his fried chicken. "I don't like making a big deal of myself, you know. Just my friends should be there, or it will make me feel awkward."

Seamus was having none of this. "Harry, lad, people want to share this with you. Folks from all the Houses have been asking me, all of us, are we doing something for your birthday. Everyone wants to be a part of it, to regard themselves as your friend. You do realize, don't you, that everyone in school during the years you were here, is going to be telling everyone they meet for the rest of their lives, that they knew you as a student?"

Harry blanched at the thought, and Seamus smiled broadly. "Listen, lad, you just leave the planning to old Seamus here. I'll take good care of ya."

As much as Harry thought that was probably a very bad idea, it did take him off the hook. With a small smile and a slight shrug, Harry turned his attention to the chicken and potatoes on his plate.

After lunch, the noisy group split apart as everyone went off to their preferred afternoon pursuits. Ron culled Hermione from the group and took her aside for a quiet word.

"C'mon, Mione. There's something in the castle I'd like to show you, since you're stuck here for the day what with the libraries closing early."

He escorted her up the lawn and into the cool confines of the castle. They chatted easily as they walked, and she really wasn't paying attention to where they were heading. When the reached a rather plain door set into a long expanse of empty wall, it hit her. "Oh, the Room of Requirement!"

Ron pushed open the door and beckoned for her to enter.

She gasped when she saw what the Room had provided for her and Ron. A beautiful, airy, shaded cottage porch looking over the lake was before her, with a large wicker couch positioned to take maximum advantage of the view. Ron took her hand and led her to the couch, pulling her down to sit next to him, his arm around her shoulders. She giggled with delight at this romantic gesture, wondering what was behind the door off the porch that was just slightly ajar.

She did not have long to wait to find out. After some further small talk, Ron pulled Hermione in for a deep, wonderful kiss. All her resentment over the uncomfortable aftermath of her own failed attempt to seduce Ron dissolved in the jumble of feelings that coursed through her. She snuggled close to him, and returned his kisses with enthusiasm. When kisses were no longer enough for either of them, Ron stood and took her by the hand to help her to her feet, and led them into the cottage.

On the other side of that door, was the biggest, most inviting four-poster bed, with a window looking out at the lake. Turning her to face him, Ron lifted her face to his with his hand. "Mione, with you, it had to be special, something we'll both remember forever. I'm sorry if you didn't want to wait, but this is how I see us expressing our feelings for each other."

Tears actually began to well up in her eyes. For every moment of frustration or annoyance she had experienced with Ron, there were times like this that just cemented him in her eyes as the best guy in the world. This was perfect – it was romantic, sincere, private, calm. She needed a moment to be sure her voice would not fail her, before she was able to reply. "Ron, I've known you were the one for a while, and I admit, I wish we could have done this sooner, but this – this is amazing. It's totally right. Thank you so much!"

The kissing resumed, while hands worked feverishly to undo shirt buttons and jeans zippers, and feet kicked off shoes and socks. When they were down to underwear, a brief moment of modesty intruded, and they quickly slipped into the bed. The sheets were the softest Hermione had ever felt, cool against her skin. A few more moments of mutual exploration and they were finally comfortable enough to wriggle out of their remaining clothes.

Ron was as gentle and caring as Hermione had dreamed he would be on this first time for her. She had to agree that this bed was far superior to a patch of ground next to one of the greenhouse walls, with no worry that anyone would overhear their moans and whispers. Their coupling was slow and unhurried, and she forgot the momentary discomfort as she was swept away with pleasure.

Hermione had to resist the urge to giggle with happiness as she and Ron stretched out, side by side in the large bed, he for a nap and she to admire the view of the lake. This had been everything she'd dreamed it would be, and so much more. For once, waiting for the right time had been the best decision.

This was by far the most glorious afternoon of her entire life.

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry learned that his aunt, uncle and cousin were gone from Hogwarts that night. Professor Sprout had mentioned seeing the loathsome family off via portkey that morning, and Severus shared the news with Harry when they returned to their rooms at the end of that evening.

"They did not bother you, after that first encounter, did they, Harry?" Severus asked, noticing with some concern that Harry showed no emotion when given the news.

"Actually, I just ran into them one other time. I returned a little kid I'd worked with on his training broom to his mother in the middle of the week, and she happened to be standing with them. Vernon was his usual hateful self, but when he went to smack me, I froze his arm in mid-air. Used wandless, too," he added, obviously pleased with himself about that. "I told him I never wanted to see him again, and you know what? I meant it."

Severus watched Harry's face for any sign that the encounter was less benign than described. Even before the events of this year, it had always been apparent that Harry wore his emotions on his face, and now that he'd had so much more opportunity to observe him up close, Severus felt very confident in his ability to read the inner feelings of his bondmate. And it appeared he was telling the truth; there were none of the telltale signs, now so familiar to Severus, that Harry was distressed. A welcome, and very positive development!

Minerva had mentioned, as if Severus might not have realized this, that Sunday was Harry's birthday and several of his friends had asked if a space other than the Gryffindor common room might be available for a party. The attendees included members of all Houses, guests and a number of adults, such as Sirius and Remus, so she was giving them the use of one of the reception rooms near the Great Hall. Harry was aware of the party, so she wanted to be sure that Severus did not make his own plans that might interfere with their party.

Severus had bristled at that comment. He was a bit put out that Harry had not mentioned this to him, although in truth it wasn't clear exactly when Harry had been informed. He wasn't even sure that he actually wanted to be there himself. It was just her assumption that Harry would not wish to include him in such a celebration that galled him. Although, now, as Severus poured himself a small brandy and Harry sifted through the mail that was stacked on the desk in the sitting room, he wondered what Harry was thinking about that.

Severus settled into his usual chair with a journal, and Harry grabbed a butterbeer from the kitchen and stretched out in his usual place on the couch.

With a fairly melodramatic sigh, Harry answered his bondmate's unspoken question. "I learned this afternoon that my friends here are hosting a party tomorrow evening for my birthday." He peered at Severus to gauge his reaction to that news. He recalled a conversation not all that long ago when Severus had predicted such a party would be held, unfortunately in connection with testy words they'd exchanged on the subject of Harry getting an annulment of their bonding when he turned 17. Severus' face remained neutral. As Harry thought on it, given the range of negative emotions that often flared across that face, neutrality was not a bad sign, actually.

Harry desperately wanted to solidify his relationship with Severus, but was constantly fearful of pressuring the man into something he didn't want. He wished he had some way of looking into Severus' heart. The last thing he wanted to do was to make a decision to bind them more strongly than they already were bound, if Severus longed to be free of him. Clearly, this was not something that could just be brought up in casual conversation. Might there be some sign of Severus' feelings if the subject was something like the party?

"I want you to come to the party with me, Severus. Will you?"

With those few words, Severus' world was set to rights. Harry saw it – a very brief, but nonetheless obvious, look of relief appeared on his face, before he carefully schooled his expression back to neutral. Oh, he'd still posture and fuss, because that's what Severus did, but he was relieved to be included. It bothered Harry slightly that Severus had not already known how significant he was to him – there was no way Severus was not going to be asked to accompany Harry to this party, and yet he seemed not to have realized that. But this still served to show Harry that Severus did care for him, and wanted to celebrate his birthday with him.

"I suppose it is expected," Severus replied with an almost sour note in his voice, but he quickly realized Harry wasn't buying the act. "Minerva mentioned that her Lions were planning something for you. She didn't want any plans I made with you to interfere."

Harry shook his head – he could imagine the way his Head of House would have put that. It certainly explained a good deal of Severus' sour mood this evening.

He checked the time on the clock on the bookcases near the mantel – it was nearly midnight. As soon as the clock struck midnight, he would be 17 years old. He sipped his butterbeer as he waited for the new day to begin. As soon as midnight came, he put down the half-finished drink, and shifted to sit on the edge of the coffee table in front of Severus' chair. He'd made up his mind what he wanted to do, and despite butterflies in the pit of his stomach, had decided to take the direct approach, risking rejection or ridicule, but hoping for a good outcome.

"Severus, I need a word with you, if you don't mind."

Not entirely certain what was going on in that beautiful head, Severus put aside the journal through which he was leafing, and set down his brandy. He gave Harry his full attention. Had Harry not already asked him to accompany him to the party, he might have expected bad news, but he still was not entirely certain as to what was on Harry's mind.

"I am now officially 17 – the clock just passed midnight," Harry said as he nodded toward the clock and took Severus' hands in his own. "I have made up my mind about certain things that involve you. Actually, I made up my mind quite a while ago, but you were adamant that I had to be 17 before you would accept my decision. I have no intention of undoing our bonding. You are stuck with me, as I think you knew you would be. And I have every intention of maturing our bond tonight."

A slight smile crept onto Harry's face as he said that, a slight sign of his embarrassment, knowing what the "maturing" involved. But this was not a night for embarrassment or for holding anything back. For something he would have found unimaginably horrible less than a year ago, this had become the most anticipated and significant night of his life.

"Come, I want to go to bed."

Harry stood, and pulled Severus to his feet, allowing his bondmate to pull him into a hug, which evolved into a soul-searing kiss. In the back of his mind, Harry marveled that, for once, no argument or discussion was needed – Severus was complying with his request!

It felt like mere seconds and they were in their bedroom, peeling off their clothes and clambering onto the bed. As they broke from a particularly breathtaking kiss, Severus finally spoke. "Are you sure about this, Harry? Yes, you are of legal age now, but this is a step, once taken, that cannot be undone without significant disruption and damage. I don't want you to do this if you have any reservations, any doubts at all."

Harry smiled warmly at Severus' very typical show of concern for him. The man probably never even realized this, but his persistent focus on what was best for Harry only made Harry love him more. Severus had turned out to be the embodiment of everything Harry had ever hoped to find in someone he could love. It still surprised him, that he'd actually found such a powerful love, and for such an unexpected person. But he was certain that it was love that he'd found, and he wasn't giving it up for anything.

"I have no doubts, Severus, none at all. The Marriage Stone found my soul mate, and it is my incredibly good fortune to be bonded to him now. I want that bond to be as strong and unbreakable as it can be, and that's what I've wanted for a good while now."

Harry pulled Severus back into a brief, gentle kiss this time, and then pulled away, waiting for Severus to take the next step.

Severus was shocked at how nervous his felt, almost like it was his own first time. He wanted this to be special, memorable, wonderful for Harry. With care, he prepared Harry for what was to come, wanting to minimize any possible discomfort that he might experience. He took his time, and showed a patience no one would have believed was in him. And it wasn't easy, given that their magic was practically pooling on their skin, blending and tingling, and occasionally throbbing, with each touch. When it was finally the right moment to consummate their bonding, Severus still moved gently and slowly, watching Harry's face carefully to be sure he was not hurting him in any way.

Harry was surprised how his body reacted to the intrusion. He'd learned about the mechanics of gay sex from Charlie Weasley, but nothing prepared him for the waves of sensations, the pure pleasure that he felt with each gentle push and firm stroke. He had no idea what part of him, just inside there, was sending these pulses, but he'd never felt or expected anything like it. This was heaven.

Harry's face never betrayed even a flicker of discomfort. Bliss – that was the only word Severus could find to describe the expression Harry wore. Severus imagined a look of similar joy and contentment was on his own face. He'd never experienced a pleasure so total, so complete before, sexual stimulation enhanced and amplified by the magic of soul mates. Neither lasted very long, before their pleasure exploded. Severus slid slowly from Harry, holding him fast, and allowing Harry to cling to him, too.

In the glow of the aftermath of their release, neither noticed that there was an actual glow, a slightly golden light, that suffused the air around them.

The two held each other tight, kisses resuming as soon as their breathing was back to normal, gentle strokes and caresses placed wherever their hands could reach. Severus' release had been a powerful one, and as much as he might not wish to admit it, he was older than Harry. As their post-coital explorations continued, Harry's body responded as one might expect of a 17 year-old, even as Severus remained limp.

Harry wasn't sure of the protocol in matters such as this, but his hormonal urges took complete control of his body. He wanted to experience everything tonight, and the prospect of sharing the overwhelming sensations he'd just had with Severus drove his actions. Everything that Severus had done to him felt wonderful, so he resolved to duplicate this all for Severus' pleasure.

Severus felt Harry's firmness, and groaned as Harry became more persistent in his caresses, and as his kisses progressed to nips and licks. Severus was so swept up in the sensations Harry was creating that he never reacted when Harry had pushed him onto his stomach. He noticed, but was past the point of speech to protest, when Harry gently began the process of preparing him, as he'd just prepared Harry. He felt Harry maneuvering atop him, pressing against him. As much as he could not have imagined this happening, he arched his back strongly when he felt Harry gently pressing into him.

It had been many years since Severus had allowed someone to penetrate him, and if asked, he would have said he did not enjoy this role at all. Tonight, his body completely betrayed that sentiment. With each stroke, his prostate pulsed with wonderful, almost painful, pleasure. Harry's magic pouring into him as part of the lovemaking heightened his awareness of everything, and contributed its own special pleasures. His groaning became louder and more uninhibited, which seemed to increase Harry's pleasure, until they reached a second crescendo, with Harry spilling into him and collapsing atop him at the same time.

The golden glow that surrounded them grew brighter, and began to shimmer.

Severus wanted to face Harry, to hold him tight as he drifted off to sleep. Harry had already succumbed to the experiences he'd had this night and was asleep himself. As Severus maneuvered them around to the position he wanted for sleep, he opened his eyes briefly. He was shocked to see the light. It seemed to come as much from him as from Harry. There was no physical sensation associated with it. He waved his hand in front of him, and noticed that the light moved from that motion as if it was water, but it did not dim. Once Severus was settled on his back, holding a very spent and sleeping Harry, he pondered the light, wondering what it was, what it meant. As he felt Harry's heart beat against his own chest, and his deep and regular breaths feathered across his chest, the calming effect finally claimed Severus as well, and he fell off to sleep.

X X X X X X X X X X

Albus' eyes opened with a start. Something dramatic had happened to the magic in the castle. That was definitely a pulse of magic he'd felt, a very strong one, enough to wake him from a good, sound sleep. He arose and went to his office, sitting at his desk in his nightshirt, as he began the process of sifting through the various wards that protected the castle.

He determined quickly that there had not been an attack, his greatest fear when he felt a pulse like that. As he calmed down, he was still perplexed as to what might have occurred to create this. The various other wards he studied eventually allowed him to conclude that nothing was imperiling the residents of the castle, some comfort but still not an explanation.

Albus would have liked to confer with one of the deceased Headmasters whose portraits graced the walls of his office, but at this hour, every single one of them was sound asleep, snoring softly in their portraits. He finally thought to summon a house elf, and to his surprise, Dobby answered his summons. The little creature was in tears, and trying desperately to blot them with the tea towel he wore as he answered the Headmaster's call.

"Professor Headmaster Dumbledore! How may Dobby be of assistance, sir?" Dobby finally blurted out.

"What is wrong, Dobby?" Albus replied, showing some concern for the distraught elf.

Dobby started crying harder. "Oh, what a wonderful man! The Professor Headmaster even notices an elf, and inquires if all is well! Kind Professor Headmaster! It is no wonder that Master Harry Potter shows us such courtesy, being taught as he was by kind, courteous Professor Headmaster."

Clearly, this was not a night to exchange pleasantries with the overly emotional elf. Perhaps a direct question could snap him out of it, and get an answer? "I felt a pulse of magic this evening, Dobby, strong enough that it woke me from a sound sleep. The wards are all in place, and indicate no attack or impact from outside the castle. I thought it possible that the elves noticed the pulse and might be able to inform me as to what caused it."

Dobby loudly blew his nose on his garment, and blotted his weeping eyes one final time. "Oh, Professor Headmaster, all the house the elves are thrilled this evening! Our Master Harry Potter and his Beloved Bondmate have committed to one another, as we knew they would. Such joy!"

Albus leaned back suddenly in his desk chair, shock evident on his face. In just a moment, though, the shock gave way to a warm and very happy smile. He knew Severus had no intention of consummating their bonding until Harry was of age, and could make the decision himself as an adult. It had to be a good sign that Harry apparently waited only until the clock struck midnight, the first moments of his birthday, to make this decision.

And wait until Severus learned that he was no longer referred to as Master Harry Potter's Bondmate, but was now known as the Beloved Bondmate!

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry and Severus, uncharacteristically, did not get right up and dressed when they awoke on Sunday morning. They stayed in bed a while, limbs entwined, each pondering the step they had taken, and what it meant. When they finally stirred, each a bit sore in unusual places and both uncomfortably sticky, they shared a warm bath, before finally getting dressed and heading to the sitting room.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," Severus offered, as he bent over the coffee table preparing a cup of tea for his bondmate. "I suspect we might not find much time today for quiet talk, once the day begins, so allow me to give you your gift now."

Harry had just entered the sitting room, needing an extra minute to find his muggle-style trainers in the bottom of his wardrobe. He smiled excitedly at the mention of a birthday gift, and bounced onto the soft, only to wince at the discomfort he suddenly felt. Severus noticed the sudden frown, and smirked at Harry. He felt the same, of course, but knew better than to go bouncing into a chair like that.

Severus had experienced some trepidation about his gift. He had hoped that Harry would chose to consummate their bonding once he was 17, but worried nonetheless that he might opt to delay making a decision, or even seek an annulment. Despite his misgivings, he chose a gift that would make sense only if Harry wanted to stay with him, taking a leap of faith worthy of the Gryffindor he loved.

Severus had engaged the Heraldic Arts Bureau at Gringotts to create a Potter-Snape coat of arms. The artwork had been sent for his approval just a week ago, and Severus was very impressed. It was a new and distinct emblem, incorporating elements of the emblems of each ancient family but creating a coat of arms unique to him and Harry. At some point, this emblem would be carved into doors, mantles or headboards, engraved on notepaper, embroidered on linens, painted onto china. That was for the future. For now, Severus had Gringotts engrave the coat of arms onto a platinum disk, threaded with a chain.

The gift had been neatly wrapped in silver paper, tied with glimmering ribbon, and hidden by Severus in his lab until last night, when he'd moved it into the drawer of the desk in the sitting room. He retrieved it and offered it to Harry, who seemed very excited with the small package, ripping off the paper in anticipation.

Harry was a bit taken aback to see a box with the Gringott's logo on it beneath the shiny paper, as he only knew that firm as a bank. He looked with questioning wonder at Severus, who for once did not overreact.

"Yes, Gringotts is a bank, but they provide a number of other products and services. Bill Weasley works for them as a curse breaker, you know that. They actually have several commercial divisions," he explained.

When Harry finally opened the box, he was awed by the medallion he saw shining there, curious about the emblem engraved on it. He took the necklace out to better inspect the engraving.

"It's beautiful, Severus. I've never owned anything so special. Tell me about this engraving. Some of it looks familiar, but I'm not sure."

"It's a coat of arms for the Potter-Snape family. I commissioned Gringott's Heraldic Arts Bureau to create this for us, drawing elements from our individual family coats of arms, but something unique to us."

Harry was flabbergasted. Severus had obviously done this a while ago, long before the events of last night confirmed that their bond would endure. Such a leap of faith from the ultimate pragmatist! Romantic, even! Harry smiled at the thought, but knew better than to give voice to these inner musings.

"I'm not familiar with either of our family coats of arms, but this is fantastic. This is just ours? How does this work?" Harry asked instead.

"As Heads of ancient houses, we each have a family coat of arms. I've got the Snape emblem on some old books, and I think the Potter emblem is on the family lineage book Black gave me. If not, we can get an image of it for you to see. But this is a new one, created just for us. Gringotts has this coat of arms registered, so no one else will get this specific emblem, and if there is ever a question about whose emblem this is, their records will show it is ours. Here, let me get this on you."

Severus took the necklace from Harry and affixed it around his neck. As his arms were up and around Harry's head, Harry snuck his own arms around Severus' torso, and as soon as Severus had the necklace secured, pulled him in for a hug.

"Thank you, Severus. That's perfect. This is a perfect birthday, you know?" Harry whispered into his neck. Severus' arms were now around Harry, and he returned the hug with a squeeze.

"You are most welcome, Harry. I am delighted you're pleased," he said softly in reply, as he caressed the back of Harry's head with his hand.

X X X X X X X X X X

Severus congratulated himself on having thought to give Harry his gift when they arose, as the day did indeed become a raucous celebration once they left their rooms that morning.

Harry was surrounded by well-wishers as soon as he sat down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, although after they'd gotten their own greetings out of the way, Harry's usual group of friends kept most of the hangers-on at bay.

What with an impromptu game of quidditch on the lawn, time flying over the lake, and the other activities enjoyed by the Gryffindors, Harry presented a moving target for most of the day, and was able to avoid too much fussing, until dinner was over and it was time to go to the party.

Albus had corralled Severus immediately after breakfast with an invitation to join him for a walk. After they'd exited the castle and were on the path leading toward the lake, Albus finally revealed his reason for asking to see him.

"My dear boy, I was awoken last night, probably about 2 am, by a very strong pulse of magic. I was fearful of an attack, of course, but the wards were fine. The portraits were all asleep, so I summoned a house elf; sometimes they sense things and have insights we can't capture. The house elves apparently were beside themselves in happy celebration, because, as they put it, 'Master Harry Potter and his Beloved Bondmate had committed to one another'."

Severus had stopped dead in his tracks with that observation, so Albus came to a halt himself.

"I gather that you and Harry have made some decisions, have you not?" he inquired gently.

Severus wasn't sure if he was embarrassed or furious, or maybe a bit of both.

"I cannot imagine that this is any of your business, Headmaster," he replied in his frostiest tones.

"Unfortunately, where Harry is concerned, Severus, the standards of privacy need to be recalibrated. The pulse of magic I detected was strong enough to wake me, all by itself, from a dead sleep. Granted, I'm more attuned to these things than most, but it was something I'd never experienced before. I would be surprised if there are not sages and seers around the world discussing this before the day is out, and we might even get inquiries from the Ministry, if not the press. I assume that your bond is now matured, is it not?" Albus hoped that Severus might respond better to a less delicate, more direct approach.

With a deep sigh, Severus did respond. "Harry will be beyond mortified if any of this gets out, you know that, don't you? He's intensely private. But yes, he did inform me, as soon as the clock struck midnight, that it was his 17th birthday, and he had decided that he wished for our bond to be matured, as he has no desire to annul it."

"I've known many witches and wizards who were bonded or married to their soul mates, but never two with the power that you two have, of course. Did you feel a pulse of magic last night, Severus? I am curious about that, and concerned."

Severus looked at the old man with a curious look of his own on his face. Concerned?

"I felt no pulse of magic, nothing of that sort. I was aware that a golden, glowing light formed around us. It seemed to be coming from both of us. I felt nothing – it did not hurt. If I moved my arm, it swirled about a bit, but it didn't dim or dissipate. I did not ask Harry if he felt it; I doubt he noticed, as he was asleep. It was gone when we awoke this morning."

Albus fixed Severus with a serious look, as he patted his back and got them moving along the path to the lake again. "I've never heard of a glow or light like that, Severus. I suppose it is possible that the light and the pulse I detected are connected. I will let you know what I hear beyond the walls of Hogwarts about this."

Severus continued on the walk with the Headmaster, imploring Merlin and any other protector or deity out there to prevent this from being commented upon by anyone other than Albus.

Unfortunately, at dinner, Albus did mention very quietly that he'd gotten two owls from the Minister herself that afternoon, regarding inquiries directed to the Ministry about changes in the magic associated with Harry and his bondmate. At this point, she was giving evasive answers, but wanted Albus to be aware that the conversations were going on out there.

Severus chose not to share any of this with Harry that evening as they prepared to head off to his party. Let him enjoy his day without worry or the intrusion of the world into his happiness.

It was Harry who summoned Dobby, to ask for a glass of chilled pumpkin juice.

"Master Harry Potter! Best wishes to you on your birthday! Dobby is honored to be of service to you or your Beloved Bondmate! What can Dobby do for you?"

Fortunately, Harry was really thirsty and focused on asking for some pumpkin juice, so the change in terminology in referring to Severus did not immediately register. He made his request, and the little elf winked off. When the glass of juice, together with a carafe of more juice spelled to remain cold and a platter of Harry's favorite biscuits, were placed on the coffee table, Severus wandered out of the bedroom, adjusting the cuffs on the shirt he was wearing, to see what Harry had asked for.

Harry put the empty glass down and was contemplating a biscuit when he saw Severus. "Did you hear that, Severus? You aren't Master Harry Potter's Bondmate any more. You now seem to be my Beloved Bondmate," Harry offered with a smile, in greeting.

Severus shook his head and took a seat, helping himself to a biscuit as he did so.

"Yes, I heard about this. I gather one of them referred to me that way to Albus, and he mentioned it to me."

"Why do they change names that?" Harry asked, as he selected a biscuit and refilled his juice glass.

"Albus has his theories, but I don't know that the elves themselves could explain it to you. According to Albus, house elves have an ability to sense things in magic that most of us wizards can't feel, and then, as you know, they have a most interesting way of phrasing things."

Harry was about to make a comment on that, when certain facts started to align in his head. He blushed crimson at the implications.

"Do they know . . . ?" was all he was able to get out.

For once, Severus accommodated an inarticulate, half-spoken question.

"It appears so. Albus said he was awoken from a deep sleep by a massive pulse of magic last night. The wards were fine, so he summoned a house elf to see if they knew anything. He was told that you and I, the Beloved Bondmate, had committed to one another."

Harry stared straight ahead in horror, mortification pulsing through his body.

"I didn't feel any pulse of magic, and I assume you did not either." Almost in shock, Harry just nodded his agreement with that observation, unable to speak.

"Were you aware that we apparently produced light, last night, Harry? I noticed it before we fell asleep. A golden light surrounded us. You were already sound asleep, and it was gone by the morning. The Headmaster had never heard of any such thing happening before."

Harry just blinked at that news. The Headmaster knew?

Severus took pity on the blushing, embarrassed young man. "I'm sorry, Harry. Our magic is extremely strong, yours and even mine to a much lesser extent, and our union creates ripples and pulses that others do detect. The house elves are very sensitive to this, so they are always aware of things, and I suspect Albus is almost as sensitive as a house elf. But be prepared. And don't be upset or embarrassed."

Before Harry could hang his head, as he was no doubt seconds away from doing, Severus stood and pulled Harry up to stand before him.

"You are a very special man, Harry Potter. Shoulders back, head high. You have nothing to be ashamed about, we've done nothing about which you should be embarrassed. Come, it's time for your birthday party."


	42. Ch 119 Party Times

Chapter 42 – Party Times

Harry had calmed down by the time he and Severus arrived at the door to the reception room in which his birthday party was being held. The low rumble of voices that could be heard in the hall told them that others were already in there and the celebration had begun.

To Severus' mild surprise, Harry had snaked his arm around his waist as they walked side-by-side from their rooms, essentially forcing him to put his arm around Harry's shoulders. Perhaps it was an over-developed sense of propriety, but Severus tended not to initiate such contact with Harry when they were in public, although he certainly did not shy from it when Harry reached out to him.

Severus looked down to study Harry's face as they approached the door. "You are alright now, Harry? I cannot believe your friends will know or particularly care about your sex life – I fully expect that each of them is totally absorbed in their own."

Harry smiled weakly at that, suspecting it to be true. He was sure he'd have no problem at all sharing this sort of information with his best friends and former roommates, anyway. At least the general outlines of the situation would have been fair game for their late-night conversations, back when he was part of those conversations, at least. And Ron and Hermione had been acting a bit funny today. He hoped it might have something to do with the progress of their relationship – maybe Ron finally used the Room of Requirement as he'd suggested?

It was the sheer publicness of this private matter that had overwhelmed him. He could deal with his close friends. But the Headmaster? The press? The Minister of Magic? Everybody else in the world? Sometimes, he hated his life. Although, as he felt the magic pulsing beneath the hand that rested on Severus' waist, there were some compensations here. A mischievous thought entered his mind.

Severus sensed what he thought was Harry's inner distress, and gave his shoulder a squeeze as he prepared to release the young man when they opened the door. As he opened the door, he was surprised to feel Harry's hand slip down his backside, delivering a small but firm pat on his bottom just as Harry stepped into the room.

Naturally, Harry was immediately engulfed in a swarm of students, mainly Gryffindors, but members of all Houses were in the mix. As he disappeared into the noisy throng, Severus carefully schooled his features from the mild surprise prompted by the pat to annoyed boredom. He inched his way around the periphery of the crowd toward a large bowl of what he speculated was spiked punch. He was also looking for a good spot from which he could keep an eye on Harry while not being noticed himself. Old habits die hard.

Once he determined that a particularly vile brand of cheap firewhiskey had found its way into the punch, he vanished the offending liquid from his cup and quietly inched his way back to the wall. One of the ever-present house elves had watched Severus take a tentative sip of the punch and vanish it with a look of disgust, and he popped into view with a cup filled instead with Severus' favored brandy as Severus settled into a doorway half-hidden by a tapestry.

Severus scanned the room first to determine if there were any individuals in the crowd about whom he should be particularly concerned. Sinistra had not shown, although he noticed most of the other professors were scattered about the room. That was good. The dogfather and his wolf were here, of course, off in another doorway, but Lucius was not in the room – even better. There was an absolute gaggle of redheads, to be expected, as all the Weasleys were here. He realized that he was actually very comfortable with that family, to his quiet surprise. The squib princes were on the other side of the room. Potentially an issue, but as likely not. And there was a particularly tight knot of students – mostly male students – in one corner. It took Severus a few minutes of surreptitious surveillance to tease out the attraction. That beauty in the middle had to be Pharaoh Nitrocris, once again favoring Longbottom, of all people, with her attention. A pang of remembered jealously flittered in his gut, but it died there.

Turning his close attention to the little parade that had attached itself to Harry as he milled through the room and accepted well-wishes from his friends, Severus noted a few annoyances, but nothing of significance. Those Patil girls couldn't just give Harry a kiss on the cheek – no, they had to hang all over him, and they kept patting him for some reason. Pansy Parkinson, ever the optimist, looked like she might be ready to pounce, as well. Even Miss Greenglass seemed to be angling her way in. However, Harry was graciously pressing forward and no one really had the chance to cling to him too long. The only ones Harry seemed intent on keeping with him were Weasley and Hermione. Severus was accepting of that.

In a doorway of their own on the other side of the room, Remus was trying to calm Sirius down.

"That bastard! I saw what he did! This is a school, Remus! How could Dumbledore allow something like this to happen here? I saw Harry give him a smack on the butt - -!" Sirius was sputtering away, to the mild amusement of his bondmate.

"Yes, I saw that too. Severus' arm was around Harry's shoulders, and Harry gave him a pat on the butt when they parted as they entered the room. I suspect that only you and I were looking when that happened, as we'd just entered ourselves and were near the door. What's your problem?" Remus chided, draping his own arms around his lover's shoulders.

"How inappropriate! That sort of thing should absolutely not be allowed!" Sirius continued to sputter. He was not going to allow anyone, including Remus, to distract him from his snit.

"Sirius, listen to yourself, will you? You saw Harry pat Severus on the backside. Harry did the patting, not Severus! If anything, I'd say Severus was rather startled by it, too. Severus did nothing but get his butt smacked. Harry was the one who touched him, not the other way around. Calm down, for Merlin's sake!" Remus whispered. His breath against Sirius' ear caught Sirius' attention (and interest), enough to break the rant.

Sirius spun around in Remus's arms to face the room and inhaled sharply as if to speak, but found he had nothing to say. He looked rather puzzled as he scanned the room, finding Harry along among a small crowd of students. Severus was nowhere to be seen, although he had to be lurking someplace. Remus leaned down again to whisper "Don't be angry with Harry, Sirius. It was just a playful pat, nothing to get your knickers in a knot about. Calm down."

Of course, Remus realized that Sirius was not the least bit angry with Harry, at least not yet. All that vitriol was for Severus, as it usually was for Sirius. The suggestion that he might be angry with Harry for that inappropriate display drew Sirius up. He did not like seeing any display of affection, especially anything intimate, between Harry and Severus, but Remus was right – Harry had initiated what he'd seen.

Remus broke Sirius' train of thought, suspecting it was better derailed at this point, by pulling Sirius toward him gently, and grinding into him playfully from behind. "Come along, let's mingle for a bit."

A very distracted Sirius pushed back into Remus for a second, but finally allowed his partner to take his hand and lead the two of them into the fray, to get to Harry to wish him a happy birthday.

X X X X X X X X X X

Albus had welcomed his friend Amelia Bones into his office a short while earlier. He'd spent many hours that afternoon researching the meaning of the light that Severus described to him, and had come to some conclusions; he was interested to see if she accepted his ideas.

Her visit was not exactly official, but after several owls had flown back and forth during the day, he suggested it might be preferable (and easier on the owls) if she paid a short visit to Hogwarts that evening. They could speak freely, and she could stop in to the party to give Harry her best wishes for his birthday. She was most likely persuaded more by the latter opportunity than the former, but Albus was glad she'd come.

"Thank you for inviting me, Albus. This is getting complicated. A number of seers around the world have made statements to the effect that the bond between Mr. Potter and Professor Snape is now fully matured. We've been contacted by a few newspapers, but have declined to comment on speculation about what is a completely personal matter. I am hoping we worded our declination strongly enough to shame the newspapers into dropping the story, but I have always suspected that it is not possible to shame most those people, under any circumstances." She named the seers who had been quoted in the press requests, and Albus was pleased to realize he'd never heard of any of them.

"I am sure you've done your best, Amelia, and I appreciate that. The newspapers will write what they write, and make things up if they want to. There are a few seers whose records are so well documented that their pronouncements alone would be sufficient basis for a news article, but the ones you've named are not among them. Possibly, at least the more widely-read newspapers will not be willing to risk their own reputations on the musings of an unrecognized seer."

Of course, they both realized that statements by some unknown seers would not be regarded by the Minister as "complicated." There was clearly more to this.

"I got several other owls this afternoon, Albus, from my counterparts in other wizarding governments. The insights of a seer might be ridiculed, but the empaths are involved now. Several empaths reported sensing a burst or shift in the magic of the world that appeared to have come from northern England or Scotland. There does not seem to be agreement as to what exactly happened or what phenomena they sensed, but the information was passed along through channels. At least four heads of wizarding governments were concerned enough to dispatch owls to me today."

Albus sighed. He had expected that the sages and seers would be abuzz about this – actually, he'd heard that they'd been discussing the state of Harry's bond for some time now. He'd not thought of the empaths, those with a particular sensitivity to the ebb and flow of magic in the world. His mind raced to consider this new source of input, and how best to deflect any troublesome questions.

A saving grace was that he was sure this particular event was exceedingly rare, certainly something far beyond the actual experience of any empath living today. It had taken him hours of poring over very rare and very ancient manuscripts that were not available to anyone else to even formulate a theory about this, so it was most unlikely that they'd know that they sensed. He was unlikely to face very pointed or on-target questions, should the empaths even be in position to pose them.

Beyond that, the talent of an empath was not one with which one could make a living in the business world. As a result, most empaths who wanted to use and develop that skill were in the service of their governments, usually part of high-level and secretive parts of those governments. On further thought, it actually wasn't surprising at all that their concerns would be presented to the British Minister of Magic by Ministers of other countries, in less than a day.

An approach to diffuse the empaths' observations suddenly dawned on Albus.

"As it happens, Amelia, I was awakened myself last night from a sound sleep by just the sort of phenomena that the empaths reported." Albus waved off her reaction with his hand. "I am far more sensitive than many, but no, I am not an empath. I was awoken by something that occurred in this castle, so it was very close by. I first checked the Hogwarts wards, as you'd expect, but found nothing amiss. Then I asked the house elves if they'd detected anything."

Albus either didn't notice, or chose to ignore, the look of indulgent amusement that his admission garnered from his guest. Albus was well-known for his unusual attitude toward house elves. "They basically confirmed what the seers are now saying, Amelia. It appeared that Harry waited until the clock struck midnight to welcome his 17th birthday to inform Severus of his decision to mature their bond." He looked up now at his guest to gauge her reaction to that news, and saw surprise.

"Oh, yes, Severus was adamant that the bond would not be fully matured until Harry was of age. If Harry decided that he wanted to annul the bonding, Severus wanted him free to do so; he did not want to limit Harry's options. He would never take advantage of circumstances, despite what everyone thought."

At this point, Amelia looked rather abashed. She had been among those to assume the very worst of Severus Snape. She said nothing to anyone of her suspicions, of course, but it shamed her to admit to herself that she'd entertained them.

Albus continued. "In any case, their bond was exceedingly strong before – we heard in the Ministry after the attack that Harry could touch his magic already, and there were other signs of a very powerful bond. But now it has been fully matured. I spoke to Severus about that this morning."

Amelia's face now registered blatant astonishment. She'd had some difficult conversations in her day, but she could not fathom anyone, not even Albus, broaching this delicate subject with his exceedingly forbidding Potions professor. The man had more nerve than she'd realized. The serious look on Albus' face began to worry her, though.

"There was light, Amelia. Their joining produced a golden glow, that enveloped them for what Severus thought was as long as an hour."

In all fairness, Albus could not blame the Minister for the look of confusion she now wore. He himself had not fully understood the significance of the light when Severus first mentioned it.

"I had never heard of light, either, but I recalled that Rowena Ravenclaw had done a great deal of research in her day about wizarding kingship. She amassed a most fascinating collection – if you recall your history, the wizarding world acknowledged three kings during the span of her lifetime, so it was less rare an occurrence, and there was more research done on it then. The Headmaster's Library here is assembled from the collections of every Hogwarts Headmaster going back to the Founders, so it contains an absolute treasure trove of truly ancient and one-of-a-kind material. I was able to find Rowena's manuscripts, and they were most illuminating."

Albus couldn't help himself – he had to share a tidbit he'd learned as he worked his way through the dusty sheets of ancient parchment that comprised her portfolio. "I found some later notes that speculated that two of the manuscripts she collected were penned by Merlin himself. A most fascinating afternoon, if I do say so myself."

"Did you find anything about pulses of magic or light, Albus?" Amelia was as fascinated by ancient history as anyone, but she had a bit of a crisis on her hands right now.

Albus hadn't expected to be able to give free reign to a description of his research and the manuscripts, so he was not insulted, but pressed on. It was a most fascinating story even without the details of its discovery.

"I don't think the light is a function of sex, nor is it a function just of Harry's status as king. This might be an instance of a most unique phenomena, observed two, maybe three times before in our recorded history, and it was already a matter for the history books back in Rowena's time. It is referred to as Merlin's Favor, and there were mentions of light associated with it."

Amelia did not look convinced by this. Albus appreciated that he was about to share the part of his story that represented the greatest leap from the little he'd found in the manuscripts that seemed to explain their current situation. It was the best he had to offer, it explained what had been observed, and all he really needed from her and the Ministry right now was support in deflecting intrusive questions. He had to hope for the best.

"Just as our world finds its king when it needs one, that king is uniquely suited to the challenges that he must face. Our world has need of a king now because of a madman in England, so it is not surprising that the king is found in England, for example. But our need at this moment is not for galvanizing leadership, or inspired field tactics. We are presented with a shockingly personal situation – it has been prophesized that Harry must fight this madman himself, that is the only way our world can be saved. I theorize that Harry has been given Merlin's Favor to help him do what he will be called upon to do. He will need magical power, and I suspect that Merlin's Favor was shown to him in a way that connects his and his bondmate's power, maybe amplifies it. That would explain why it occurred when the bond was fully matured, the burst or shifting of magical power that the empaths report and that I felt here, as well as the light."

Amelia leaned back in her chair, momentarily quiet as she collected her thoughts. Albus was always full of surprises, but this evening, he'd surpassed himself.

"I don't know what to say, Albus. It all seems so straightforward when you lay it out like that, but I get the sense that this is a conversation that is going to remain just between us, and I don't understand that element," she finally ventured.

Albus nodded. He was pleased that she'd caught that subtext. This had to remain completely confidential.

"You are right, Amelia. This is and must remain just between us. But I wanted you to see what I believe I see, so you will understand the requests I am going to make of you. First, I think it is in our world's best interest that Voldemort not know that Harry has Merlin's Favor, and that it is connected in some way to his power level. He knows he is going to fight a powerful, but very young and inexperienced wizard when the time comes, which he believes is to his advantage. He doesn't know that Harry has been shown Merlin's Favor, and that will be an advantage for Harry. So, my speculations about Merlin's Favor and what it might mean to Harry has to stay strictly between us."

It did not surprise him at all that Amelia was already nodding as he began to outline how she could help Harry in his task. The boy did inspire profound loyalty.

"Second, I am concerned for Harry in the longer term. He is already hugely powerful, and you know that many in our world become suspicious and fearful about those favored with significantly greater power than they. Imagine how they will react if they realize that Harry's existing power has somehow been amplified! I do not want Harry and Severus ostracized or persecuted, or even inconvenienced, because of this. Another reason that this is so confidential."

Albus suspected that Amelia was his ally at this point, so he proceeded.

"I appreciate the way you deflected the inquires about what the seers are saying. That was perfect. I must ask that you help us similarly in the way you reply to the inquiries you've gotten from your counterparts in other lands, although we'll share some confidential information with them, I think. You might deem it appropriate to share, in strictest confidence, that you believe it was the maturing of the bond between Harry and Severus that sent out the ripple that some of their empaths detected. The extremely personal nature of that information will focus reaction to what the empaths felt in a very different direction, and discourage chatter. How would you feel about that?"

Amelia smiled, finally. "I am quite comfortable doing what you've asked in response to the inquiries that have come to me. And I agree with your assessment of how the leaders of foreign governments will respond to the private information that I share confidentially with them. Spot on, Albus. But ought I be worried about Harry? Can he control himself? He's already lost control twice at the Ministry."

"Severus and I are working with him, teaching him wandless magic," Albus allowed. He'd anticipated this question, and had his deflection strategy all ready. "He was provoked both times at the Ministry by murderous attacks on his bondmate, so I don't see this as a control issue, but I worry about the wandless aspect. That can hurt Harry, and creates the possibility of collateral harm, although to date, only those intent on harming Severus have been impacted. Once he has a firm handle on wandless, this will cease to be an issue. Who could blame anyone from stopping a murder?"

"I did see Augusta's latest article in the Daily Prophet – she mentioned the use of defensive spells in general, and dropped in a short bit about intention spells," Amelia replied. "I suspect this is not the right time to share that with my counterparts."

"No, no, I don't think this is the time, or that you are the right person to do any such thing. I think this is better shared at the law enforcement level, our Aurors speaking to their colleagues in the foreign law enforcement organizations. The word will get where it needs to go, I suspect. Would you mind if I asked Kingsley to have a word with Auror Darmut, in a few days?"

"Of course not, go right ahead. Drop my name, if you or Kingsley feel that's necessary." Amelia was reeling from all she'd learned, but she was comforted by having a defined role to play in this unfolding series of events. She hated feeling powerless or removed from the events that so significantly impacted her world, and Albus had helped her find the right place for her to be.

"Has Mr. Potter's reception begun yet? Ought we be heading down there, Albus?"

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry was still amazed, nearly an hour into the party, at all the people who had assembled in the reception room and who were very sincere in their good wishes for his birthday. Hermione and Ron had hardly left his side, and were really helpful when he needed to extricate himself from someone who wanted a bit more of his time than was appropriate, or in the case of the Patil twins, someone who was a bit too physically clinging. Harry hated having to excuse himself from a conversation – it always felt awkward to him. While he hadn't seen Severus since they split up at the door, he assumed he was being watched, and really did not want to hear about "passes" from Severus later.

For someone who had never had a birthday party before, it was nearly overwhelming that he had so many friends, true friends. Oh, that description hardly applied to everyone in the room, Harry knew that. But a goodly percentage of the people who'd shaken his hand, hugged him, or kissed him on the cheek were his friends. Sirius and Remus were there, as were all the Weasleys – he'd go so far as to claim them as extended family, along with Hermione.

And not one of them looked at him strangely, or seemed to know that something had changed for him. It would appear that Severus was right: his sex life was not of concern to them. What a relief!

"Hey, kiddo, congratulations and happy birthday. Enjoying your party?" Sirius whispered in greeting as he crushed his godson in a hug.

"Best ever, Sirius. This is excellent. I still can't believe . . ," Words failed Harry, as he looked around at the throng with wonder on his face. Sirius chuckled and squeezed Harry's shoulders, as Remus leaned in for a hug and to extend his own birthday wishes.

Molly Weasley wanted to smother Harry in a hug, you could tell, but her large belly got in the way. "Oh, well, Harry, lean in and let me give you a quick peck on the cheek. I can hardly get you close enough, what with the baby." Harry obliged, and happily accepted the kind of fussing he suspected a mother might give her son on a day like this.

As Harry made his way across the room, he was intercepted by Neville and Nitrocris, escorting Mrs. Longbottom, who wished to extend her best wishes. Harry took a few minutes to speak to his friend's grandmother, and accept her clipped and formal words of congratulations, all the while wondering about the younger woman in his friend's company. When it was clear that Mrs. Longbottom had said her fill, Nitrocris offered a kiss and warm wishes for Harry on his birthday as well, and Neville awkwardly punched Harry on the arm.

Harry was hoping he'd have the opportunity to find out how things were going for Nitrocris in Egypt before the evening was over, but he was immediately pulled along to accept the greetings of the princes, who had flooed over from Balmoral Castle for the evening.

"This floo network is outstanding, Harry," the other Harry observed. "No time at all, and here we were! We wanted to wish you the best on your birthday, and thank you again for the role you played in saving us."

Wills added, "Our grandmother wasn't able to attend, but when we told her that it was your birthday and that 17 was the age of majority in the wizarding world, she asked that we give you a note from her." He slipped a small cream-colored envelope from the pocket of his jacket and handed it over to Harry, who accepted it with obvious pleasure as he thanked them for coming.

He was almost immediately on the move again, shaking hands, getting hugged and kissed as he went. Harry cringed inwardly as the Headmaster came into view, with the Minister of Magic by his side.

"Good evening, Madam Minister, Headmaster. I am flattered to see you here this evening," Harry offered as he accepted a kiss on the cheek from the Minister. He was hoping against hope that he wasn't blushing as they chatted.

"I needed to speak to Albus about some Ministry business, and had the good fortune to find myself upstairs just as your reception was getting under way, Mr. Potter. Of course I wanted to extend my best wishes to you for your birthday before heading back to London," the Minister explained.

The small group split up soon after, as Hermione spotted an unused alcove for a quick chat with Harry, and Albus spotted the muggle princes and wanted to introduce the Minister to them.

Hermione and Ron were able to get Harry into the alcove for a welcome breather from all the attention. Harry perched on the edge of a table as he rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"That was a bit more than I expected, guys. Thanks for spotting this place – I needed a break," Harry said as he took a glass of pumpkin juice that had just appeared on a tray on the table. "I just can't believe the crowd."

Hermione wanted to call Harry on the fact, clear to everyone else, that there were many people, in this world at least, who loved him and regarded themselves as his friend, and he needed to get past the nonsense his so-called family had been spewing all those years. For once, though, she held her tongue on that, and just changed the subject.

"So, Harry, you told me at breakfast that you got the most amazing gift from Professor Snape this morning, and I've been dying to see it! Can you show me now?" she asked instead.

Ron perked up with interest too. He'd wondered himself what the gift might have been as it appeared that Harry had it with him when he mentioned it – he really could not imagine what Snape would have given him that was that portable. Not that he'd have admitted that, of course.

Harry fished under his shirt, and pulled out the platinum disk, offering it at the length of the chain still around his neck for her inspection.

"This is beautiful, Harry – I've never seen anything quite like it. The workmanship is extraordinary. What's the engraving?" she asked, while leaning close for a good look at the intricate work. Ron peered over her shoulder for a look as well. Somehow, he would never have guessed that Snape would have given Harry a necklace for his birthday.

"That's a coat of arms, or family crest. Severus commissioned it from Gringotts," Harry explained.

Ron looked more closely, and recognized some of the symbols that would be part of a family crest. He gave Harry a funny look. "As the head of the Potter house, you already have a coat of arms – that's a really ancient house. As is the Snape house, so Snape has his own coat of arms, too. Is this your coat of arms then, or his?"

"He commissioned this for us. He said it has elements of both of our family coats of arms, but it's unique to us. Registered at Gringotts and everything."

Hermione looked at Harry with eyes bright with tears. "That's wonderful Harry!" she gushed, as she pulled Harry into a hug. "You've made your decision, then. You are going to stay with him?"

Ron was a bit confused by Hermione's show of emotion, but nodded with acceptance as Harry confirmed that he'd told Severus he was not going to annul their bond.

Harry smiled and continued the conversation, more with Hermione. "He had to have commissioned this some time ago, before he knew for certain what I'd say on my birthday. As thrilled as I was with the medallion itself, the fact that he'd had this made up in advance – that was awesome." Harry looked down at the gleaming engraved disk himself, shaking his head slightly as he did so.

His observation earned him another hug from Hermione, who he suspected recognized the romantic gesture for what it was.

Ron suddenly blushed, as he contemplated what Harry's decision meant on a really personal level. It was hardly a proper question to ask in front of Hermione, although he had to admit, not one that she'd hold back from asking of Harry in front of him if she was curious. "So . . er . . um . . Harry, well, I mean to say . . have you and he discussed . . "

Harry would not have understood that question just from the words he used, but Ron's deep blush and inability to look him in the eye told him that this question was the big one, about sex. The question he'd been dreading all day, and it was Ron, not him, who was mortified!

A big smile broke across Harry's face, accompanied by a small laugh. "At midnight last night, as soon as I was officially 17, I told Severus of my decision and insisted that we mature our bond." With a much softer voice but the same big smile, he added "And we did."

Hermione laughed at the news, clearly happy for Harry and he got another hug from her. They both laughed at Ron, who was now turning a most unbecoming shade of purple.

X X X X X X X X X X

The Minister was quite tickled when Albus presented her to the squib princes, and they seemed rather pleased to meet her as well.

"Now, I understand that you boys live at Balmoral Castle, is that so?" Amelia inquired, after the introductions were done.

"Not full-time, ma'am, but we spend holidays there usually. It's our grandmother's personal home, and she loves it," Wills explained.

"That's very understandable. Were you aware that the castle had been the family home of a wizarding family for many centuries, and that one of its members had actually once been the king of muggle England?" she offered.

Albus looked surprised. "We discovered that the house elves were particularly pleased to have the chance to go there – they explained that there was magic in the place, and they were sure their kind had lived there before."

The younger prince wasn't entirely certain about house elves, but remarked "We're being provisioned from this castle, I understand. We didn't have to call in our staff while things were getting back to normal in London. Are house elves behind that?"

"Yes, young man. That's how we're doing it," Albus replied. "We have at least a hundred house elves here at Hogwarts, and when we opened the floo to Balmoral so you boys and Harry could tape that message, they recognized the magical signatures there immediately. They go back and forth regularly now, sharing food, whatever. They are apparently very fond of the place."

Amelia hadn't been aware of that, but was quick to get back to her story. "That castle had been in the Woodville family for many years. They obviously weren't the original owners – it was a Scottish castle, of course. But the Woodvilles loved it up here, and being magical, loved the proximity to Hogwarts. One of the women in the family, a beautiful young thing named Elizabeth, married into the muggle royal family four or five hundred years back. That might have worked out, but her husband became the king, and the two sons she bore were both wizards. When her husband learned about their magic, he was furious. He tried to control their education, wanted them to know nothing about magic. They were magically strong, though, and they really needed to learn how to control their gift. Their father passed away suddenly, so the oldest boy became king. Elizabeth took advantage of the fact that her husband was no longer there to strictly limit her access to her sons. She was able to get her sons back to Balmoral, and her late husband's brother took the muggle throne, which he'd been itching to do all along anyway. An awful scandal in its day, as it was thought that something terrible happened to the boys, and most people assumed their uncle was behind it. But this story has a very happy ending, just one that the muggles never knew about. The boys took the Woodville name, and became part of the magical community here. Had long, happy lives, too. Their descendants kept the castle for a few hundred years more, but finally the Woodville interest in Scotland petered out. After the castle had gone unoccupied for years because the family preferred to stay in London, it was sold. A muggle queen saw the place and loved it, and bought it a hundred or so years back. How nice that the current muggle queen loves it."

The princes were agog. Of course, they recognized the story of the Princes in the Tower. The princes hadn't died in the Tower of London at their uncle's hand? And Queen Victoria bought Balmoral Castle from one of their descendants?

Albus was rather surprised that Amelia knew all that history, especially since he'd never heard about it, and it involved a castle not all that far from Hogwarts. He directed a very questioning look at her. "How in Merlin's name did you come to know all that about the history of Balmoral Castle, Amelia? And about the family history that went with it?" he ventured. The princes were clearly as interested in the answer to that question as the Headmaster.

"That story has been passed down in my family for half a dozen generations, at least! My mother was a Woodville, Albus. While my family never got too wrapped up the pure-blood nonsense the way some did, one never actually went on about one's muggle ancestors. However, my mother thought it was an interesting tale, and she made sure that my sisters and I knew the story of our muggle ancestor. It is a lovely story, isn't it?" she concluded, as she patted the prince standing nearest her on the arm.

The two princes shared a look. The magical world held one big surprise after another.

X X X X X X X X X X

The Dursleys' first day back on Privet Drive was not entirely the "welcome home" they might have hoped it would be.

The trip via portkey had left Vernon terribly nauseous, to the extent that Petunia had to give him some of his stomach pills and set him up to rest out on the covered back porch. While their house was intact, and the food in the larder and refrigerator still fresh, and the plants in and out of the house looked healthy, everything was covered in dust. Dudley's dust allergy acted up immediately when he arrived home. He had to go out on the porch with his father, after taking several of his own pills and becoming very drowsy.

Once those two were settled, Petunia spent the day washing, dusting, vacuuming and cleaning every surface in their home, stopping only to bring sandwiches and more medications out to Vernon and Dudley and finally, to put a roast in the oven for dinner. At least by the time the Dursleys assembled at their dining room table for their first dinner at home in quite a long time, the house was dust-free and spotless.

Petunia was distressed when her attempt to use her own silver left her with burning pains in her hands; she'd really hoped whatever that awful man did to her, it was not going to follow her home. She had tucked one of the little daggers into her bag, just in case, and got it out. Vernon gave her a look, which she answered with a shrug, but nothing was said.

It was an early evening for the family. Just a few minutes after Petunia had cleared the dinner dishes, they all turned in. Petunia was exhausted from all her cleaning, and Vernon and Dudley were still feeling the effects of the medications they'd taken during the day.

Sunday was thus the first full day for the Dursleys at Privet Drive, and it started out fine, if quite late in the morning. The sun was shining brightly, birds were chirping. A fine day.

Vernon was miffed that the newspaper had not been delivered, as he enjoyed his Sunday paper over breakfast. He harrumphed as he stormed back into the house; he'd be calling the Circulation Department to complain. He was not aware that Charlie, the young man from three streets over who had been delivering the paper for several years now, was among those who had not survived the casting of the spell months before. He'd been riding his bicycle at the time and was struck as he fell by a car careening out of control.

As he waited for Petunia to get the coffee and start the eggs, Vernon went to turn on the television to catch the news of the day. As the set warmed up, he reflected that he hadn't seen a newspaper or gotten real news for an awfully long time. He was sure he had some catching up to do.

He was interrupted by a knock on the front door. It was Walter Cavendish from across the street – a man with whom Vernon shared morning greetings but not much conversation. In fact, Vernon did not think the man had ever actually been to his front door.

"Dursley, old boy – good to see you back! We didn't see your family's name on the lists of injured or deceased, so we hoped all was well with you," Walter began. Vernon was completely puzzled – lists?

"The news has been absolutely astonishing, really, hasn't it? My Dolores and little Junior have been soaking up all the programs, and announcements, and they are just so thrilled about it all. We have several of the neighbors over at our place. Why don't you and the missus, and young Dudley, come on over? Just sitting in the garden, platters from the bakery, nothing fancy."

Petunia had come to the door from the kitchen when she heard voices in the front hall, and Dudley was just coming downstairs. All the Dursleys were puzzled to hear that people were "thrilled" by what had gone on, but frankly, food was food. Petunia was fine with going across the street – she and Dolores knew each other from Garden Club, and while Junior was a year or two older than Dudley, they could visit if there were no other youngsters there.

The Dursleys were surprised to find twenty or so people from the neighborhood milling about the Cavendish garden. They were welcomed rather more effusively than one might have expected, too, almost as if they were celebrities, but none of the trio thought to question it. Vernon helped himself to a couple of gooey sticky buns and Dudley piled a plate high with helpings of pretty much everything. Petunia eyed the eggs and salads, but was worried about her ability to use even the plastic utensils. Until she knew exactly how her problem was going to impact this, she opted for finger food and went with a cheese danish.

After most of the food was gone (a process to which Dudley contributed significantly), the conversation was directed to the Dursleys.

"We've been so thrilled to see your nephew on the telly, Vernon – he actually appeared with the Queen herself last week, in a message from Balmoral Castle! And of course, he's practically a regular with messages taped with the young princes. They say he's a king, of the wizarding world, of all things! Did you know?" Dolores cut right to the heart of everyone's curiosity.

It wasn't entirely benign curiosity, however. Everyone on the block was very excited to learn that they'd had a king in their midst, but they were also aware that most of them never saw the boy doing anything but tending Petunia's flowerbeds and running chores. They'd paid the boy no attention, assuming him to be a poor relation of the Dursleys, and now were wondering if they'd missed out on their chance to know a true celebrity.

Surprisingly, it was Dudley who refocused the conversation. Granted, it was an inane observation, but people were suddenly a bit less annoyed at his parents.

"We were up at Harry's school in Scotland. Dad and I were in the infirmary there, and we spent the last week living there since we woke up. It was a neat place."

Maybe the neighbors would not be able to tell their coworkers and friends about their personal acquaintance with the young man appearing so regularly on the telly these days, but the chance to have some insights into his school, his day-to-day life? That could be just as impressive.

It was late afternoon before the gathering in the Cavendish garden broke up, with Vernon and Dudley sharing what little they had observed during their brief (and rather hostile) stay at Hogwarts, with Petunia offering some of her own observations when she could get a word in edgewise. The neighbors of Privet Drive lapped it all up – travel via fireplaces? Flying on brooms? Food just appearing on the table? Little tents that were actually, inside, the size of actual homes? Oil paintings speaking to you?

To Vernon's annoyance, the story that seemed to capture everyone's attention the most was Petunia's recounting of one of the spell castings, as she called it. It really grated on him that Potter's freakishness was being celebrated like this, rather than vilified, as he believed it ought to be. But he was also keenly aware that people had never hung on his every word as they had been this afternoon, and he did enjoy that, a great deal.

Life just wasn't fair.

[A/N: My thanks to Miserichord who made a comment about the possibility that the Princes in the Tower had magic. I had not considered that, but it turned out to be a good story for Minister Bones to share with the squib princes. Elizabeth Woodville was indeed the mother of Edward V and his brother, but all the rest of it, including the connection of their story to Balmoral Castle is fiction. It is nice to think that the sad story of the Princes in the Tower might actually have had a happy ending, just one that we muggles just did not know about.]


	43. Ch 120 Merlin's Favor

Chapter 120 – Merlin's Favor

As much as the subject repelled him, Vernon could not resist the urge, shared with Petunia and Dudley, to tune in to a BBC special running on Sunday night that provided a recap of events since the normal people awoke after several months of sleep, just over a week ago. The Dursleys sat huddled together in front of their television set, surprisingly quiet, as the astonishing story was told.

Petunia was horrified by much of the story, imagining what it would have been like for her had she been left on her own at Privet Drive for those months, even assuming that Vernon and Dudley were sleeping comfortably. She'd been so caught up in her discomfort at finding herself in the midst of magical people that this was the first time she had even considered the alternative. As it was, she'd actually seen first-hand some of the things just reported on in the story, and it gave her shivers.

Dudley gave this his usual very shallow attention, although he still thought that some of the things he'd seen at Harry's school had been rather neat, and he felt special for having seen some things that were only mentioned on the news program. Overall, however, he would have preferred watching an action movie.

Vernon's mind was working overtime as he watched. He was exploring all the angles – how could any part of this be used to his own benefit? What opportunities existed here for him? He'd seen the reaction of his neighbors to his family's return from the magic school. They'd seen the boy and knew his name, so they immediately knew that there was a connection between the boy in the messages with the royal family and the Dursleys. They'd also gotten very attentive to any story told by the Dursleys of their time at the school. Vernon had really enjoyed being the center of attention.

Of course, no one at his office or among his business associates knew about the boy. They had no idea that the family had taken in Petunia's nephew, or that they'd been watching this same boy on the telly. How could he work this into conversation, and make people aware, all in a way that was favorable to him?

Even better, how could he handle this in a way that would allow him to share his opinion that those people were all freaks?

X X X X X X X X X X

The party at Hogwarts was starting to wind down on Sunday night. Harry had finally found Severus' hiding place in an alcove and insisted that he join him in the party itself. To Severus' amusement, the crowd around Harry thinned dramatically once he stood at Harry's side. To Severus' surprise, that did not seem to bother Harry in the least.

Harry was still bidding the guests good evening as Albus approached them. He waited off to the side as the last of the students repeated their birthday wishes and took their leave.

"Ah, my boys, what a festive occasion! I can't recall the last time I enjoyed myself this much. Such an inventive birthday cake!" he offered in greeting.

The birthday cake had been quite a sensation. The cake itself had been baked by the house elves, but the elves were persuaded by the Weasley twins to allow them to decorate it. They chose this event to unveil one of their newest creations – Weasley Whiz-Bang Frosting. No birthday candles needed – the frosting itself emitted little plumes of fire that burned in various colors and set off the odd small explosion of fireworks above the cake. When the cake was cut and slices eaten, the person's face turned the color of the flame in the frosting on the piece he or she had eaten, as smoke curled from their ears. Albus' face was only just now fading back from the bright orange it had been, and there were still a few small wisps of smoke escaping from his ears; he'd gone back for a second helping, it appeared.

"I don't wish to disturb your evening, but wanted to ask if you would join me for a few minutes in my office. If tonight is not convenient, might you join me tomorrow after breakfast? I found some fascinating information that I'd like to share with you both," Albus continued.

Harry shot a questioning look at Severus. He certainly had hoped that they'd maybe pick up where they'd left off last night . . . of course, he wasn't going to say that in front of the Headmaster! But could they properly delay this visit with the Headmaster until tomorrow?

Severus seemed to understand his thoughts. "Albus, it has been a very long day. Might we agree to meet you in your office tomorrow morning?" he answered.

Harry hoped his pleasure at that suggestion, and Albus' nod of agreement as he too bid them good evening, wasn't too apparent, lest he appear rude. Severus' smirk as soon as the Headmaster's back was turned told Harry that Severus felt the same as he did.

The subsequent events of the evening established that Severus had also planned to pick up where they'd left off the night before. Severus even introduced Harry to some of the delights of that large bathtub they occasionally conjured in their bedroom.

The next morning, after breakfast, the pair duly reported to the Headmaster's office, to find him poring over a large stack of very old vellum and parchment.

"Ah, my boys! Good morning! A beautiful morning, indeed." Tea was offered, as were lemon drops, before Albus explained his cryptic invitation the prior night.

With his typical bluntness, Albus minced no words about his subject.

"Harry, as I believe you know, seers and sages have been speculating as to the level of maturity in the bond between you and Severus for some time now."

That was not a new or controversial fact as they'd all been reading of the speculation in the newspapers all year. Nonetheless, Harry swallowed visibly. This was apparently going to be one of THOSE conversations. His immediate wish to be swallowed up by the chair in which he was sitting was not granted, so he steeled himself for what was sure to come.

"I learned from Minister Bones last night that empaths have chimed in," Albus began. Seeing uncertainty in Harry's face, he added, "They are witches and wizards who have with a unique ability to sense the volume and movement of magic in the world, Harry. Several empaths expressed concern about a surge they'd detected on Saturday night in this part of the world. Empaths tend to work in wizarding governments, as there's really no commercial use for the skill, and the heads of several governments had been concerned enough to express concern to our Minister."

Harry cast a quick look at Severus, and was relieved to see that he was as surprised as Harry at this news. Harry always hated it when he learned that the Headmaster and Severus had discussed something about him but had not shared it with him.

"While Amelia had already deflected the inquiries based on what seers and sages were saying as a completely private matter, it was a bit more complicated with empaths. I felt the surge myself, and initially feared for our wards. From the house elves' comments, however, I deduced that your bond had, indeed, matured."

The Headmaster looked at Harry with sadness on his face and went on. "I know that you are a private person by nature, Harry, and I apologize for my bluntness, but in your current role, you are not going to enjoy the degree of privacy you would prefer. To deal with the empaths, we determined our best course was to actually share some information, confidentially. Madam Bones has replied to her counterparts from the countries who expressed concern, in strictest confidence, that we suspect the surge the empaths felt was associated with the maturing of your bond. We suspect that this will be the end of their interest in conversation about what their empaths felt."

Harry was confused, and to a slightly lesser extent, so was Severus. He hated that he and Harry had to have this conversation with the Headmaster, as he knew how Harry felt, but there must be some purpose, just not one clear to them yet.

"Albus, is there reason to be concerned at all about what the empaths are saying?"

The old man leaned back in his chair, and scratched his beard idly as he contemplated that question.

"Well, I spent a good amount of my day yesterday looking into that exact question. I certainly felt a surge here, but of course, I'm here in the castle. It was a shock to learn that empaths had sensed the same thing at significant distance from Hogwarts. But the thing that caught my attention the most was your reference, Severus, to the light you observed. The shimmering golden light that encased you and Harry."

At this, Harry cast a very startled look at Severus, who had the grace to look a bit embarrassed.

"I hadn't shared that with Harry, actually."

Looking directly at Harry, he went on, "You were already asleep, and I noticed a glow in the room. I looked more closely, and realized that this shimmering gold light seemed to be coming from us. It didn't hurt, and it was still there was I fell asleep myself. It was gone when we awoke, and with all the other things going on, I forgot to mention it to you. When the Headmaster told me that he'd been awakened by a surge in magic, and asked if I'd felt anything, I mentioned it to him then."

Fortunately, Harry was in a forgiving mood, and turned his attention back to the Headmaster.

"I was most curious about what this all meant. Bonds are matured all the time, and nothing like this happens. There have been numerous instances of wizard kings maturing bonds, and nothing like this was recorded in our histories, of which I was aware. So I went to some ancient source material."

Albus pointed to the stack of documents on the table before him. "These are from the Hogwarts Headmaster's Library, placed there over a thousand years ago by Rowena Ravenclaw." Severus' eyes widened at that – the documents looked old, but he was shocked at their true age, and amazing pedigree.

"The world was a different place then, and wizards needed kings more frequently, so the phenomena of a wizard king was more regularly studied and researched. She was actually something of an authority on it. After reading through her notes, I have come to the conclusion that the power surge and light had nothing to do directly with your kingship, nor even with the rather remarkable power levels that each of you have. I found some other things in her portfolio that might be more to the point."

He pointed to a particularly old sheet of vellum on the top of the stack. "Have either of you ever heard of Merlin's Favor?"

Harry was quick to shake his head to signal he'd never heard of it. Severus had significantly more knowledge of things in the wizarding world and its history, so he needed a moment to think and reflect before he, too, had to shake his head to signal the negative.

"This has only happened a few times in our recorded history, but one of Rowena's documents provided some information. When a wizard kings needs help in fulfilling his mission, and is deemed by Merlin to be deserving of the help, Merlin shows that wizard king his favor. The manner in which favor is shown depends on what is needed – once, it was the gift of eloquence, and once it was the gift of strategic wisdom. In the two cases for which some details were recorded, the arrival of the gift represented by Merlin's show of favor is accompanied by a shimmering, golden light – this ancient document uses the same words as you did, Severus, to describe what you observed."

To Albus' amusement, both Harry and Severus still looked perplexed.

"I suspect that Merlin has shown Harry his favor in the task he must perform as our king. Harry will not need eloquence or wisdom beyond what he already has, but to fight Tom Riddle and prevail, he will need power. Even if Tom can only use his own power, it is formidable, and he's much more experienced and practiced in the ways of battle. Merlin's Favor was shown to Harry, I believe, in creating some sort of connection between him and his bondmate that links or amplifies your power."

Severus looked a bit unsure, as if he was not accepting this at all.

"I realize it's a stretch, perhaps, but consider. The light can be read as a sign of Merlin's Favor, the timing of its arrival as your bond fully matured suggests that it is something that connects to the two of you, and the surge detected in the magic in the world suggest that all this involves your power. I don't sense anything different in your power levels as we sit here, so I am assuming that this is something that you can draw on when needed, in battle."

Harry's mind was spinning. His reaction to this news wasn't positive.

"I attract the odd bit of magic floating about in the world – I acquire a new language, some familiars, a skill, and possibly top off my capacity to hold my magic safely within myself. And now you say I've picked up some additional magic, from Merlin this time? Or maybe nothing, if my magic level is the same? How can we be sure this is even safe? Maybe the next time I use magic, I'll destroy someone!"

Severus leaned forward and reached out to take Harry's hand, a gesture of comfort. "Harry, you've used magic since this all happened, and your magic worked fine, and I felt nothing." Whatever else Harry had done during the day yesterday, he'd been the one to transfigure a cup into the bathtub they'd used last night, and he filled it with bubbly water, and that had gone perfectly. "At the very least, I don't think anything happened to you that night. Nothing changed, you're safe. I'm safe. Maybe this is something that will come to you when you need it, not before, or again."

Harry held Severus' hand tightly, squeezing hard, to quell his own panic. He drew a few deep breaths, and finally calmed enough to nod.

"I asked Amelia to keep this whole thing between just us, and I'd like to ask you both to do the same. As I explained to her, this is something totally beyond the experience of any empath alive today – the last reported incident of Merlin's Favor in the history books was already in those books when Rowena deposited her manuscripts in the Headmaster's Library. The most significant thing: Tom Riddle mustn't know about this. He's sure it is to his advantage to fight Harry while Harry is still young and inexperienced, and the last thing we want him to know is that Harry might have a significant advantage of his own. This is such a rare occurrence, even a modest research project might draw attention to the subject, leading to idle speculation or possibly information that gets to Tom's ears."

Harry allowed a very small smile. Usually the Headmaster was very accommodating of his desire to share all the details of his life with Ron and Hermione, but truly, it would not be humanly possible to keep Hermione out of a library looking for whatever she could find about this.

"I'm fine with that, Headmaster. We don't know what, if anything, this means to me. It might mean nothing at all, and we might never know that it actually happened as you suspect. And, for sure, Hermione would not be able to resist taking this on as a research project!"

Albus nodded over his half-moon glasses. "I'm very glad that you agree. Now, I found some particularly fascinating ancient documents that might interest Severus, and if you'd like to stay, I'd be delighted to show you as well."

Harry was glad for the reprieve – ancient documents, on a beautiful summer day, did not excite him. He went off to the classes being run on the lawn to help with the flying lessons for the morning, while Severus remained behind, to see the manuscripts that some of Rowena's later material had suggested had been penned by Merlin himself.

X X X X X X X X X X

Vernon's arrival at work on Monday morning was exactly the kind of grand entrance he'd hoped it would be. His assistant, Miss Enderlee, had already arrived and organized the mail on his desk, although no tea was ready as would normally be the case.

"Mr. Dursley! How wonderful to have you back! We missed you last week, and I was quite worried. We couldn't find your family on any of the lists of the injured or deceased, so we were hoping there was just some other delay keeping you away. I've organized your mail and messages, and will have your cup of tea in just a moment, now that you're back!" Vernon fully expected that Miss Enderlee was at work either as soon as she awoke, or the very next morning. It was clear that she was running the office just like always. He really appreciated her attitude, although all he did was grunt in her direction as he entered his office.

A very short while later, she brought him his tea as he sifted through the various documents collected in a neat pile on his desk. She fussed for a moment, and then spoke rather softly.

"Mr. Dursley, I do trust all was well. You've never missed a week at work before, without a word, and I was quite concerned. We haven't had any calls from headquarters or anything I couldn't handle, of course, but I did worry."

He smiled benignly at his fawning assistant and directed her to the chair across from his desk. It was time to put some critical information into the business gossip mill, and Miss Enderlee was an absolute master at that. Her ability to ensure that a particular fact got to a particular ear was even better than her considerable skill at keeping his office running smoothly. She sat primly, her feet crossed at her ankles, her pleated skirt hanging low over her legs, her graying hair pulled into a tidy bun.

"My family and I just got back on Saturday, actually. Mrs. Dursley's nephew is the young man who you've seen on the television, the young wizard who speaks with the royal family on those little announcements. He had us all brought up to the school he attends in Scotland, to be sure we were all safe in the Infirmary there during the time we slept. The principal suggested that the families of students stay there at least an additional week after we awoke, even though we, of course, do not have magic. He said the world was not entirely back to normal, and it would be easier for us all to stay there a bit longer. They finally said it was alright to return home on Friday evening and we were able to leave the next morning."

Vernon was torn by the reaction to his story. Miss Enderlee's wide eyes and look of awe were most gratifying, although it completely grated on him that this was all because of that freak, Potter. The gratification associated with celebrity status won out. With a very small smile, he shuffled the papers before him, and his assistant realized she'd been dismissed. Vernon was confident that most of the employees at Grunnings would know about this by lunchtime, as would most of his business contacts. "And, Miss Enderlee, would you please make a reservation for me at my club for lunch, usual time?" he added. That would assure that everyone at his businessmen's club knew, as well.

Several of Vernon's colleagues stuck their heads into his office as the morning progressed, to welcome him back, and ask questions about his time at the wizard school in Scotland, and about his wife's famous nephew. Vernon perfected his telling of the story as the morning wore on, and was quite pleased with it by the time he waddled down the street to his club.

Sure enough, Miss Enderlee had done her job. The barman came out to shake his hand as he entered, and the maitre de was most effusive in his greetings. His usual waitress, Sally, came to his table straight away and fussed at him for a very extended time, to the annoyance of other patrons.

Vernon made it a habit to enjoy a cigar in the bar with his tea before going back to his office, and he was delighted to have a half-dozen of the regulars pull up chairs and stools to speak to him about his time at the school in Scotland. He made sure it was an interesting story. He touched on all the things (whether he'd seen them himself or heard his wife describe them) that had so impressed his neighbors the day before, but added in his own commentary that spoke to the essential freakishness, untrustworthiness and likely evil of the magical world. His audience was alternately spell-bound and horrified as he spoke, to his immense pleasure.

There was one man sitting a few tables away, quietly sipping a Pimms, with a newspaper folded before him. He appeared to be reading, but he was very discreetly eavesdropping on the conversation among the group of acquaintances. He had felt the same suspicions that the gentleman doing all the talking was articulating. He was not willing to embrace this magical world that had just revealed itself. By his reckoning, they created the problem themselves, to the great harm and inconvenience of the normal people. He'd been bothered by that for over a week now, since he awoke, actually, and was so glad to hear someone, who'd even seen the magical people up close, speak the very thoughts he'd had. By the time he settled his bill and departed back to his own office, he'd learned the name of the portly gentleman holding forth. He would be sure to make the man's acquaintance, as it appeared that they had much in common.

Vernon was nearly an hour later than usual in returning from his lunch, and even though he had a great deal of work piled on his desk, he did not mind having to really apply himself for several hours to bring his work current. This had been one of the most enjoyable days he'd had in years.

X X X X X X X X X X

The television screen flickered in the parlor, as Voldemort watched in fascination.

He'd been so enamored of the device when he first sat before it in the old caretaker's house that he insisted that his minions find a way to make viewing it more accessible and comfortable, preferably in the manor itself. They struck gold in the form of a 12-year old muggle boy from the neighborhood, who for a fistful of that odd-looking muggle money, spent an afternoon connecting long black things he called wires from tall poles on adjacent properties, running them in a trench to the Manor, and finally weaving them in the most amazing, if completely incomprehensible, pattern between an assortment of devices he assembled with the television in the manor parlor.

When the boy was finished, he produced a small black tablet with an assortment of buttons, and explained to the older people who'd hired him what each button did and how to move between devices and to different channels. Voldemort had briefly entertained the idea of killing the boy rather than letting him leave, but he was so taken by the things he could do with the different devices the boy had hooked up for them that he never even noticed the boy just walk out the door.

The news broadcasts were of the most immediate interest, but as Voldemort devoted more time to watching the things that appeared on the television as he accessed the various devices, he found shows that were not news of the day, but apparently presented for entertainment. He quickly became quite addicted to Dr. Who, and a daytime game show.

The news broadcasts were getting more and more interesting.

The idiots at the Ministry were still sharing all manner of information about the magical world, apparently hoping that this new openness would lead to acceptance and appreciation of magic. The muggle royalty seemed to have bought their story, and were doing their best to keep things positive.

But there was a strong undercurrent, clearly evident in the muggle newspapers and in their television news reports, of strong distrust and fear. It was just a matter of time, and there would be a full-scale backlash against the magical world. It was already happening in some countries. He wasn't entirely sure about the form that would take, or when it would become too visible to ignore, but it was brewing here in England.

Voldemort spent a good amount of time contemplating how a muggle backlash against the magical world would play into his plans. He was so absorbed in visualizing the reaction and how devastating it would be to those who opposed him, he nearly missed the opening credits of Dr. Who when the program came on that evening.

X X X X X X X X X X

In his small home in Abbeville, Cornelius Fudge watched the same news programs and read the same newspapers as Voldemort from a chintz club chair in the parlor. He was as excited as Voldemort was at the growing unrest and distrust of magic in England. There had been some riots already in some of the smaller towns here in France, and it seemed that had occurred in other countries as well, but it was going to start soon in England.

Cornelius wanted to go back to England, to regain his position of authority and prestige. He hated living like a retired public servant, as he explained his assumed background to the few in the area who'd sought to engage him in conversation. This was not his destiny.

It was all a matter of timing, and he sensed that the time was getting closer. There were several reports of anti-magic rallies in London today, as well as attacks on businesses thought to be owned by witches and wizards in a few smaller communities.

Cornelius had done enough planning to have his safe-house in place, and funds available for his use, and even a story to explain his presence in Abbeville, but he was planning against something very vague to him. He'd never fully envisioned what might have happened in England that would cause him to have to bolt. Thus, as he sat in his home and played his role as a retiree, he contemplated his next steps for the first time.

As he watched the news, he saw the evidence that sentiment against magic was growing in England. He pondered what resources were available to him, what opportunities were uniquely his, to turn these events to his favor. He'd been Minister for Magic for a number of years now, and had met the muggle Prime Minister several times, where Amelia Bones had probably not even had time yet to introduce herself to him. It was actually possible that the Prime Minister was not even aware that there had been a change in leadership in the wizarding government.

He'd originally created the Wizarding Registration Act as a means of using the muggle government to assure that he had complete control over all the magical people in England and could never be removed from office as Minister of Magic. Of course, he'd never said any such thing to the Prime Minister. Might he spin the story of the Act a bit differently now, to his own advantage? For example, he could say that he saw developments in the wizarding world that suggested there was trouble brewing, and he sought to give the muggle government an effective way to control what was happening in the wizarding world.

Cornelius thought that made sense, but he needed to think about it a bit more. He would likely only have one chance to make his case. He had to clearly establish that he had tried to help the muggles and the Prime Minister by getting that Act passed, and then suggest some quick action by the Prime Minister that would bring Cornelius closer to his goal of restoration as Minister of Magic. He hadn't quite decided what that might be, but he did feel that he was headed in the right direction with this thinking.

He pulled himself out of his chair and headed out of his house. He'd found a modest café a few blocks away that prepared the local fish in a manner to his liking, and he'd begun to frequent the place for dinner. He missed England, but had a good feeling that he'd be on his way home soon.


	44. Ch 121 Summer's End, Part 1

Chapter 121 – Summer's End, Part 1

This August was one of the very best Harry could recall, despite the things going on in the world.

Usually, as August arrived, he was feeling the accumulated effects of too much yard work, too many chores, too little food, and way too little sleep. The arrival of a birthday cake and goodies from Mrs. Weasley at the end of July helped some, but as he never knew when he'd get to leave the Dursleys, he was always careful to manage his stash of snacks lest it have to last him the month. But the Dursleys, the yard work and chores, the paltry amount of food he was allowed to eat, the fear of a nightmare and waking the family – they were all in the past now.

The food at Hogwarts was excellent and plentiful, and just last night, he and Severus had cooked something for dinner themselves. Actually, Severus did most of the cooking, in a large, strange-looking pot balanced on a ring over the flame, but he helped prepare the food. Everything was fresh, and light, and tasty with some interesting spices and herbs. Certainly nothing Aunt Petunia would know how to make, and nothing he'd ever seen the Hogwarts house elves offer.

His exercise came from flying his broom, swimming in the lake, walks around the grounds. He had not weeded a single flower bed at all this summer, and that struck him as just fine. He still blushed as he contemplated the exercise that he got when he and Severus were alone. The absolute delights of intimacy with Severus were beyond anything he had ever imagined, although still something about which Harry was a bit shy.

He'd also traded in sleeping on an old, lumpy mattress with a too-thin and scratchy blanket, fearful that a nightmare would waken the family, for the comfort of a bed with Severus. The linens were high quality and always fresh, the blankets warm and fluffy, and if he had a nightmare, Severus was always there with sympathy and a vial of potion to let him get back to sleep.

Harry was contemplating his vastly improved circumstances one afternoon when Severus had taken a break from his lab and suggested that they go for a swim in the lake.

It was a gem of a day, bright warm sunshine, just a slight breeze, almost hot but not uncomfortable. A perfect day for a swim, actually.

There was a spot on the shoreline near the lawn in front of the castle that was crowded with splashing, frolicking children, students and adults, all under Hagrid's watchful eye. The house elves had erected large tents to serve as changing rooms, and Professor Flitwick had created a barrier of some sort in the water that allowed him to apply a heating charm to the water close to the shore at that spot. Harry had assumed that the usual swimming area was where they were headed, and looked up with a question on his face when Severus touched his arm to direct him away from there.

"There is a better spot for a swim further along, Harry. A bit more private, and certainly more quiet. Let's go on a bit," Severus explained, with a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Harry agreed happily. As much fun as he'd had swimming there with his friends, in crowds like that, he tended to attract far too much attention to actually enjoy himself, anyway.

The two walked along in silence for rather a long while, to a spot where the path veered up and away from the shore of the lake. The shore shifted inland at this point, and the path skirted the odd-shaped spot to reconnect with the more regular contours of the water's edge a bit farther along. Severus stepped off the path and followed a much more subtle path that went the other way. Completely out of sight and earshot of the noisy crowd, a small, secluded bit of shoreline appeared. It was surrounded on two sides by forest that came right to the water's edge, with a few large boulders, a small pebbled beach, and views of the lake glimmering in the bright sun.

"How ever did you find this spot, Severus? It's lovely," Harry offered as he stepped out onto the narrow strip of sand and pebbles that constituted the beach, for a closer look at the water.

Severus bit back the true answer. He'd found this place as a matter of self-preservation back when he was a student. It was a place that he could rest, or swim, or even study, where the blasted Marauders had never been able to find him.

"I found it back when I was a student, looking for a private spot where I could read or work. It's just far enough that most students don't make the effort, and if they do come this far, they follow the main path." Severus hoped his edits were not apparent to Harry, and was relieved when Harry made no comment. Just to be sure that no current students had located the spot, Severus quickly placed an obscuration charm behind them, to keep this spot private.

Harry was already kicking off his trainers and unbuttoning his shirt, as Severus unbuttoned his robes. Needless to say, Harry finished undressing first. He was about to transfigure his underwear into a pair of swimming trunks, when he heard Severus snort behind him.

"You're a bit over-dressed, I think," Severus commented, as he stripped entirely and strode past Harry on his way into the water.

Harry blushed, but finally, if reluctantly, accepted that if Severus was comfortable enough to swim nude here, it probably was a very private place. He slipped out of his underwear and joined Severus in the water.

"Eeeek – this is cold!" he shrieked as he surfaced after his dive in to the deeper (and un-charmed) water at this part of the shore.

Severus, already several meters off the shore, shook his head to get his hair off his face, and laughed at his sputtering partner. "Keep moving. You warm up by being active."

To prove his point, Severus took several powerful strokes away from the shore, and went into a dive himself. The water was clear enough that Harry could see him in the dive, and he saw when Severus turned to approach him under water. He gasped to fill his lungs just in time, as Severus grabbed him by the ankle and pulled him underwater.

Severus was an excellent and very powerful swimmer. Harry was not. He'd done quite well when he had gillyweed providing him with gills, flippers for feet and webbed hands, but on his own, he was just passable, certainly not able to keep up with Severus. But, to his surprise, it didn't matter. They dove and splashed and Severus caught Harry and Harry tried to catch Severus. Harry could not remember any time in his life playing like this in the water, and he could not believe that he was playing like this with Severus now.

After a while, Severus surfaced next to Harry and looked at him closely. "Time to get out. Your lips are turning blue, Harry. You've had enough."

Harry swam along side Severus and gingerly picked his way out of the water over the stones and pebbles, back to the log on which they'd left their clothes. Before Harry could reach for a piece of clothing to use as a towel, Severus had grabbed him from behind and pulled him away, over to a large boulder nestled into the shore line. It was covered in light, dappled a bit as the sun filtered through the trees above. With a wave of his hand, Severus applied a softening charm to the stone, and settled down, positioning Harry's back against him, sitting between his legs.

Harry leaned back into Severus gratefully, enjoying the warmth of the sun from above and from the stone below, and feeling the warmth returning to Severus behind him. He closed his eyes and raised his face to the sun, with a smile playing on his lips as Severus rubbed his arms briskly. He could not hold back a loud, contented sigh.

"You're alright, Harry?" Severus asked with some concern.

"Never felt better in my life," Harry had to allow. "That was fantastic." With a small giggle, he added "It really felt different to swim without a bathing suit, even though a bathing suit is so small."

Severus chortled. "I'd hoped to introduce you to some of the other delights of swimming au naturel, but the water here is a bit too cold. We'll plan a trip some day to somewhere warm, where such activities will be more comfortable."

Harry smiled broadly. Severus had been introducing him to "delights" in all manner of ways since his birthday. He'd truly had no idea how varied and exciting his love life with Severus would be, and they were only weeks into this part of their relationship! And for all his fears about being the "wife" in the relationship, their love life was surprisingly mutual. He grabbed Severus' hands mid-rub on his arms, and pulled them across his chest into a hug, as he snuggled into Severus. "I can't wait."

They sat in quiet comfort, warming up and drying off for a few minutes. Finally, Severus spoke, whispering softly into Harry's ear and allowing his tongue to push into Harry's ear a few times.

"Actually, while we passed on the delights that could have been ours while bathing in the lake au naturel, there are some delights associated with drying off in the sun on the shore of the lake after our swim. Intimacy in the open air, outside like this, can be extremely enjoyable. We're at no risk of being discovered here." With a quirk of his head, punctuated by a thrust of his tongue into Harry's ear, he added as an afterthought, "Of course, there can be times that the prospect of discovery itself can be arousing, but I don't think you would enjoy that, at least not yet."

Harry's interest was piqued when Severus whispered in his ear, and the feeling of Severus' tongue in his ear pushed him to full arousal. Sex in the open air seemed intoxicating, especially with Severus' assurance that they would not be seen. He blushed at the very thought of being discovered. He doubted that the prospect of discovery was something he would ever enjoy, but Severus was quite a teacher, so who knew? For now, the prospect of more "delight" was crowding out all other thoughts from his mind.

As he felt Severus' hands work their way down his torso from his chest, Harry twisted as best he could in Severus' arms to reach his mouth. Severus saw what he was doing and met him half-way, connecting them in a kiss while he maneuvered their bodies on the rock.

A while later, Harry recovered his breath from a thoroughly depleting release, stretched out on his back on the softened rock, making no effort (as he would have done not that long ago) to cover his naked body. He dozed contentedly, and reveled in the sensation of the sun and a breeze on his most sensitive parts, contemplating his good fortune in the wondrous turn his life had taken.

The good mood and feeling of being at peace with the world stayed with Harry as he and Severus walked back to their rooms to change for dinner, and it was not dimmed in the least by the note he found on the desk in the sitting room, asking that he go to Balmoral Castle in the morning to tape yet another message.

Things were starting to get contentious in the muggle world. But today, things were just fine with Harry.

X X X X X X X X X X

The month of August had been a wonderful one for Hermione, as well. She never had to spend her summers at manual labor as Harry did, of course; her parents closed their dental practice for several weeks in August and the family usually traveled. No, this August at Hogwarts Hermione got to indulge in her passion for research on a most interesting and challenging issue, together with her growing passion for a certain red-headed wizard.

Hermione's hypothesis about the process of magical transference was proving difficult to validate. The healers she'd met in the medical library were indulgent of her because of her connection to Hogwarts, but clearly skeptical of her premise. After all, the healers who had been involved in the cases she was studying had never perceived that magic had been transferred, so it must not have occurred. Her zeal to prove her theory was amplified by her intense desire to prove the lot of them wrong.

A chance encounter with Kingsley Shacklebolt while queuing up for the floo to the Ministry one morning led to introductions to several senior Aurors, and those introductions led to invitations to consult them and their case files. Hermione's opportunity to work with the Aurors was the turning point. One morning spent with the Aurors gave her a list of several dozen events (fully half of which were never reported on in the Daily Prophet for various reasons) that involved a violent death and a surviving bystander in close proximity to the deceased. She had names, dates, and access to the Aurors' reports for more details, if she needed it. Armed with that data, she now approached the medical records from a very different perspective, one that bore fruit quickly.

In no time at all, she'd assembled a list of thirty-seven individuals who had been nearby but survived their injuries when a victim with unique magical skills was killed. She discovered that no fewer than twenty of them had manifested the unique magical skill of the victim within months of the event.

Both Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape had reviewed her research and seemed most impressed. Professor Snape even encouraged her to write up her work and submit it for publication!

As Hermione began the process of writing up her results, she realized that she enjoyed writing as much as she'd enjoyed researching. This was so much more fulfilling than even her articles written with Mrs. Longbottom. She knew that her parents would be proud if she was able to get her own work published, but realized that this was at least as much her personal goal. She'd been reading books and journals and reports for as long as she could remember. But until she began organizing her own article, it had never occurred to her that some day, she'd be producing her own original work worthy of being published, to be read by some other youngster, inspiring them as she was once inspired.

She'd even mentioned something to Ron about that, one evening as they lolled in the large four-poster provided by the Room of Requirement. They'd had a very lovely (and loving) evening, and were both trying to delay the inevitable moment that they had to get up and get back to their day-to-day lives at Hogwarts. She told him about her feelings as she wrote, half-expecting him to laugh at her.

While it did seem that it had never occurred to Ron that anyone could experience emotions from the process of writing, he was obviously happy to hear about the joy she was experiencing. His encouragement to keep at it, that evening, made her all the more certain that she'd found a "keeper" in Ron.

X X X X X X X X X X

Ron's August was excellent, but not hugely different from an August at the Burrow. He had lots of family surrounding him at Hogwarts, what with Charlie coming to visit Draco, and even Bill and the twins returning to see their brother, and of course, their parents. Molly was joined by Arthur most weekends, and while Madam Pomfrey was most pleased with the progress of her pregnancy, Molly was not returning to the Burrow until the baby arrived.

At the Burrow, there'd be weeding and de-gnoming the garden to do, but not here. Ron was a mainstay of Madam Hooch's flying program, so he spent enormous amounts of time on his broom, which is where he'd spend his free time during the summer, anyway.

And there was Hermione! Ron could not believe his good fortune that a witch so beautiful and smart was so happy to spend her time with him. They made use of the Room of Requirement as often as they could, sneaking off during the late afternoons on the days she was at Hogwarts, or right after dinner otherwise. He had been so sure he'd never get the hang of this romance stuff, but Harry's suggestion to use the Room of Requirement had been the most brilliant idea he'd ever heard, and it was perfect.

Hermione even got along with his family, something that had at times concerned Ron. He loved his family dearly, of course, but sometimes, they could be a bit much. Hermione fit in, almost like she'd been born a Weasley!

Of course, she was still Hermione. If he or Harry did not periodically drag her out of the library in the afternoon, she'd be white as a ghost. She usually agreed to spend a bit of time swimming, or she'd sit on the grass in the sun watching them fly. Ron had noticed that she really enjoyed her time in the library, which was hard for him to imagine, until one night, she explained how writing made her feel. He saw the glimmer in her eyes and sensed the genuineness of her pleasure, and knew he had to support her in this activity. Even if he found the prospect of a sunny day spent in the library an anathema, obviously she relished it. If it made her that happy, he had to go along with it.

X X X X X X X X X X

Severus' summer was among the busiest he could recall, and also the most enjoyable.

He and Harry were working regularly with the Headmaster on wandless magic. Severus had improved his self-taught technique immeasurably, and was pleased to see how quickly Harry grasped the process. Severus kept close tabs on Harry's magical pathways, and was relieved that none of their work created any problems for him, despite his being far too young by all common standards to even consider attempting wandless. Harry was busy, either taping messages with the royals to support the Ministry's efforts to keep things calm with the muggles, or helping out with the flying classes, for most of the rest of the day, so Severus got to spend a good amount of time in his lab.

Severus often spent a good amount of time in his lab in August, of course. But still, it astonished him how much more pleasant even that solitary time was when it was punctuated with the promise of time at the end of the day with Harry. They cooked dinner in their rooms sometimes, or took dinner on the lawn on particularly lovely evenings when the house elves served less formal fare to allow everyone more time to enjoy the weather. Even on the evenings when he sat at the Head Table and Harry sat amid the Gryffindors, he knew they'd meet up eventually, and he found that he lived for that.

The enthusiasm with which Harry approached their love life was as remarkable as it was surprising. Once he'd introduced the young man to the pleasures of intimacy, there was no turning back. Harry was energetic and far more adventurous than Severus would ever have imagined.

Beyond Harry, two of his friends were a surprising, and surprisingly engaging, part of Severus' late summer.

Miss Granger had not only directionally inspired his own research project to challenge the traditional wisdom and research the pathways by which magic (light as well as dark) travelled in the body, but she'd asked for his assistance in her own research. Her concepts were novel, her research impeccable, and her conclusions were well-supported. She was also fearless, no surprise for a Gryffindor. She wanted to take on the establishment that so quickly dismissed what seemed to her to be the obvious conclusion, but was pragmatic enough to understand that just being right and proving her thesis was not going to convert those so invested in the status quo.

Miss Granger had joined him and Harry one evening after dinner to discuss how to take her work forward, and after talking through several options, decided that her best option was to write an article for a general scientific publication, rather than cast this as a medical issue. She knew where the medical establishment stood, and Harry, of all people, had suggested that they seek a broader audience.

Miss Granger was quite willing to write an article, but needed some guidance in the preparation of a paper or article, one not for a class or for the Daily Prophet, but for a professional publication. Severus had been impressed enough by the quality of her work that he gave her some note's about the structure he'd followed himself in some of his own published articles, and had spent some afternoons and evenings reviewing and editing her work.

The other surprise, an even bigger one, was Neville Longbottom.

Neville followed up on his offer to introduce Severus to one of the witches in the Winter Lands who seemed to serve as a healer to that community. Typical of people in the Winter Lands, her magical power was limited, but she had the most extraordinary understanding of the magical properties of the large array of plants that grew there, some of which were not even known in Great Britain. She'd generously sent Neville back to Hogwarts several times with small linen pouches filled with rare dried herbs and tiny stoppered vials of some of the tinctures she's brewed, always accompanied by notes in tiny, precise handwriting that described the plant and the properties she observed about its use.

The day Severus joined Neville in taking a port key to the Winter Lands to meet the old woman known to one and all as Tante was amazing. It was clear that Neville was regarded as something of a folk hero to the farming community of the Winter Lands for all the help he'd given in getting their farms back to productive status so quickly. That was not surprising. Severus was shocked to find that he got similar treatment.

When he and Neville apparated to Tante's small hut in a nearby village, the little woman was almost beside herself with the thrill of meeting Severus. She clearly knew Neville well, and welcomed him warmly and happily, but she regarded Severus with awe, even more so when he offered her a carefully-wrapped bundle of several rare herbs from his own potions garden back at Hogwarts. He'd consulted with Neville to determine what plants he'd already given her, and what she seemed to be growing already, and selected some he was rather confident would be appreciated.

The little woman had beamed as she accepted the package, and then insisted that they join her for a tour of her workroom, a small shack a few steps from the door to her hut.

"Lord Snape, I think you'll appreciate this," Tante said with quiet pride as she opened the door to the shack.

Severus did indeed appreciate the workroom. The wall opposite the door was glass, covered with rough wooden shelving on which dozens of small plants and herbs were thriving in the sunlight, and the other walls were covered with shelves bearing other plants and large glass jars filled with dried herbs, all neatly labeled. The eaves were hung with numerous small bundles of plant material, drying in a soft breeze wafting through. The large wooden table in the center of the room made it clear; Tante's focus was growing and working with the plants, not concocting elaborate potions. There were items that were "laboratory" staples, beakers and cauldrons, for example, but just as many things that were obviously for the tending, harvesting and drying of her plants.

With a quick glance to be sure he had her permission to look closely at her inventory, Severus made a methodical circuit of the room, inspecting the various items and commenting on some of the more rare or unusual items. "Madam, is this really a Centrella Asiatica?" he exclaimed, fingering a red flowered plant blooming on one of the shelves. "I am working with this plant myself right now, and have been sourcing dried petals from Madagascar. I had no idea it could be grown this far north!"

Tante laughed in delight. "Ah, Lord Snape, call me Tante; everyone does. And yes, with care, the Centella can be coaxed to grow even this far north. I keep some dried petals and leaves handy, although at times, I believe nothing short of fresh material will do. For example," she continued, plucking a small red flower off the plant and gently pushing the petals away from the center to show him, "the stamens here are far more potent than the petals if you wish to strengthen blood vessels and maintain blood flow."

Severus bent over to study the small stamens growing in the center of the flower; he'd never seen them offered, fresh or dried. He purred, "Tante, then I insist that you call me Severus. This is most impressive." In truth, there were apothecaries in Diagon Alley that did not have the quantity, and probably the quality, of the herbs Tante had assembled here.

Severus spent some further time marveling at the plant life she'd coaxed into thriving in her shack, and then joined the old woman on a trek with Neville into the woods to inspect some of the larger specimens that had to be left in place, including a tipitiwichet that was so enormous, it could have swallowed the three adults.

They ended their visit over tea in her hut, the Potions Master cast in the role of student himself as the elderly witch held forth on the properties of many of the plants they'd seen that day. Neville had seemed somewhat lost on the more potions-related conversations, but joined in easily when the focus was on the plants themselves. The result of the day: Severus promised to send Tante several specimen plants from his private garden at Hogwarts, and she sent him and Neville home with a few plants from her garden (including a Centrella Asiatica) and several vials of tinctures she'd brewed from rare wild Winter Lands plants.

Within days, Neville had established the new plants in the Hogwarts greenhouses, where they were thriving. Severus himself was thoroughly enjoying making the acquaintance of plants he'd not encountered before, with the excellent guidance of Tante as to their possible uses and properties. Severus had used Winter Lands materials in his potions work for years, but the range of what was on offer was so limited – he'd had no idea at all of the diversity of plants that grew there.

Severus also had a long conversation with Neville about others in the Winter Lands who were as knowledgeable as Tante about the remarkable flora there. When Neville confirmed that there were no such others, Severus spoke to Pomona Sprout about the need to secure an apprentice or assistant for Tante. The already very old woman seemed to have the sum of all Winter Lands plant lore stored in her head, and Severus could not bear the thought of all that wisdom and knowledge going with her when her time came. Pomona shared his concern.

In a seldom seen alliance, the Heads of Slytherin and Hufflepuff Houses met with the Headmaster to request his assistance in getting Ministry support for their proposal. Pomona had a former student currently working in the Department of Magical Plants at the Ministry who would be perfect for the job of working with the Winter Lands healer, while cataloging the plant material and recording its properties and uses.

Albus was always thrilled to see his staff supporting one another in this way, and was pleased to make an inquiry to the Minister about having the young man seconded to the Winter Land's healer for this purpose. He took the opportunity to remind Minister Bones of the unfortunate situation with dementors that had caused the Winter Lands to transfer their protectorate status to Harry Potter, and suggested that seconding a Ministry worker to the Winter Lands would not only be appreciated by Harry, but might also be a step toward repairing the Ministry's own relationship with the Winter Lands. To no one's surprise, the request was approved immediately.

Neville reported back, a few days later, that he'd visited with Tante when he brought her the plants from Hogwarts, and told her of the plans to have a young herbologist come to the Winter Lands to work with her. She was thrilled; she'd been asking some of the young people there to work with her, as her apprentice or even as her paid helper, but had gotten no takers.

X X X X X X X X X

Sirius Black could not believe how quickly he seemed to have traded the very miserable life of a prisoner at Azkaban and the only-slightly-less miserable life of a wizard on the run from the law once he'd escaped from Azkaban, for the stultifying life of a cog in the Ministry wheel.

Remus was settling very comfortably into his role as a member of the Wizengamot, and he'd even accepted a role in a business venture begun by Merik Volpine and Lucius Malfoy of all people, making him a businessman as well as a member of the government. On the other hand, Sirius had been happiest when he and Remus went out on their own to support the teams protecting muggles in the earliest days of the crisis, and it had been all down-hill for him since then. He'd resisted taking on any formal role with the Ministry, even as his application for membership in the International Confederation of Sorcerers was approved, for fear of the boredom he was sure he'd encounter. The roles he could play in the unfolding crisis were limited by his lack of commitment to the Ministry. He was bored with the assignments he'd been asked to handle and felt he was not contributing to anything, and even the most informal assignments seemed to require far more reporting and report-writing than was worth the effort.

Remus sensed the restlessness brewing in his partner, and was disconsolate at first, fearing Sirius was growing weary of him. Fortunately, before either could do something they'd both regret, a solution fell into their laps.

At the mid-August meeting of the Board of Directors for Lucius' and Merik's firm, Remus met a man in the business of sourcing exotic plants for potions manufacturers. Thurston Landon was concerned because his son, who'd been helping him with a good deal of the traveling required in that business for several years now, was married and planning to start a family, and he had just told his father he wanted a job that kept him closer to home. Thurston had several employees who assisted with the sourcing, but his son's departure from the field work left a large hole in his organization. As the business had grown, he'd focused more on building the relationships and was not really interested in getting back into the field at this stage of his life.

It occurred to Remus as he chatted with Thurston that Sirius had done passably well in Herbology back at Hogwarts. While he'd need some help learning the ropes of this particular business, there were elements of this work that suggested it would be perfect for him. He'd be traveling around, and meeting new people. He'd not have to work at a desk, which seemed to represent a special hell for Sirius. Remus quietly suggested to Thurston that they meet the following day at Remus' Ministry offices.

That evening, Remus told Sirius was he was thinking.

"Are you daft? Alright, I did well enough in Herbology. But what makes you think I'd want to work in that field, and for a company like that?" was the immediate response from Sirius, not unexpectedly.

"No, I'm not daft. I'm worried about you. You aren't happy working with the Ministry, even informally, I can tell that. You're bored. I hope you're just bored with the time you spend at the Ministry, and not with me." That last comment earned him a shocked look of denial from his partner, but Remus kept going. "You haven't had that sparkle in your eyes for a bit now, and I want you to be happy. I heard this man going on about his son no longer wanting to travel, and thought this might be the sort of adventurous activity that would excite you again."

Sirius thought on that for a second. Remus always did have his best interests at heart, he knew that.

"Oh, alright. No harm in talking to the fellow. I'm sure we can get portkeys made up so I can get home most nights. Knowing a member of the Wizengamot does have its benefits, after all."

The meeting with Thurston the next morning went better than either expected.

"We're the top firm in sourcing the truly exotic and rare plants for the potions manufacturing community" Thurston began, rather self-importantly. He went on to describe some of the clients the firm worked with, and the sort of materials they were asked to procure. As he described the locations from which they'd been securing their materials, Sirius noticed the absence of the Winter Lands as a source.

"You clearly scour all the warm-weather places, Mr. Landon, but I can't help but wonder about your connections in more northern climates. I spent some time not all that long ago in the Winter Lands and was amazed at the variety of extremely magical plant material that grows there. Is there no call for such plants in the potions market these days?" he asked, clearly surprising Thurston.

Remus always found Sirius amusing when he took on the persona of a "responsible adult" and he wisely stifled the smile that began to play at his mouth.

"No, no, my dear Lord Black – Winter Lands material is very prized and highly coveted! It's so difficult to get material from there. It's such a dangerous place, what with some of the creatures that live there. The distance is a problem, the terrible weather, and well, frankly, some of the people up there are rather difficult to deal with. Lately, what with their severing their protectorate status with Great Britain, we're not even sure if the trade treaties will be honored. Very risky." Almost as if he'd just now registered all of what Sirius had said, Thurston added "You spent time there recently?"

Remus suspected that Sirius was playing with their guest, but wasn't entirely sure, so he remained quiet as Sirius continued the conversation.

"I was the guest of Lord Asgeir Brand there for a while this past winter." Thurston's eyes widened at the name, a reaction with spurred Sirius on. He wasn't going to share that the Winter Lands were not particularly dangerous to someone who in human form was regarded as a hero there, and who could transform into Padfoot; the Vikings loved the big dog, and the Grendlings seemed afraid of it. He'd actually had a grand time there.

"I actually enjoyed the time I spent in the Winter Lands, and wouldn't mind structuring a business relationship that enabled me to spend more time there, on a regular basis. I met some people who grow some interesting plants, although I'm not sure what you usually source from there. We might be able to come to some sort of arrangement."

Thurston went on then to identify the plants and other potions ingredients that were most sought after from the Winter Lands, and described the sources from which he'd gotten that material in the past.

"Very interesting, Mr. Landon. When you consider the tremendous variety of plants that grow in the Winter Lands and the incredible magic that infuses the soil there, I'm very surprised that our potions industry procures such a narrow range of material from there. And it sounds like you just deal with one of the compounds. The people of the Winter Lands live in at least a dozen communities, each with its own farms and forests." Sirius was truly puzzled with the very narrow focus the potions industry seemed to have on the Winter Lands.

"Those are the only materials we've ever sourced from the Winter Lands, and I never heard that there were other inhabited areas there. Given the climate, it seemed unremarkable that there would be a limited selection of plants. The plants we get are top quality, of course, and until this year, we've done a very brisk business . . ." Thurston trailed off. He had never been to the Winter Lands himself, but his son Eustace had been there several times and they were totally unaware of the opportunity that apparently existed.

Sirius proposed a business arrangement: he would operate as a broker in the Winter Lands, connecting the Landon interests to Winter Lands farmers and others who harvest plants that could serve as potions ingredients. He'd line up sources of the plants that were apparently already known in Great Britain first, so the existing business needs could be met, and then see what else might be of interest. The trade would certainly benefit the farmers, and apparently the potions industry would be happy to get the material. Nothing exclusive, nothing to hold Sirius down or restrict him, or make him accountable to someone else. It gave him a purpose and a way to contribute.


	45. Ch 122 Summer's End, Part 2

Chapter 122 – Summer's End, Part 2

Vernon was very flattered when a gentleman asked to be introduced to him at their club. Certainly, members did take advantage of the chance to network and meet others, but no one had ever actually sought out Vernon before. The gentleman, Reggie Mason, shook Vernon's hand enthusiastically when the maitre de intercepted Vernon as he left the dining room for the bar, to make the introductions.

"Mr. Dursley, I must admit, a week or so ago, I was sitting in the bar by myself after lunch and could not help but overhear you sharing the story of your experiences with magic, and your comments resonated with me. Allow me to buy you a drink, and we can talk about the current situation."

Vernon followed the other man into the bar. He guessed Reggie to be about his age, and from the state of his clearly bespoke clothing, quite successful in whatever business he was in.

"Vernon – may I call you Vernon?" Reggie began, waiting for Vernon to nod his agreement to the familiarity. "I'm a director at Whinging Enterprises, the estate management firm." Reggie had been a member of the club long enough to know that everyone had to provide their name and their business affiliation to begin any conversation. He'd been angling to meet Vernon on his own for a couple of weeks but the timing never quite worked. He finally settled on asking the maitre de to introduce him as the fastest way of making Vernon's acquaintance.

"I'm a director with Grunnings, the drill making firm. Our facility is just up the street; I think your firm manages the building for us," Vernon offered, keen to establish his own pedigree for whatever purpose this conversation was to have.

"As I said when Peters introduced us, I could not help but overhear you telling your associates about your feelings toward magic. Well said! And exactly what's been on my mind, ever since I woke up. How on earth can we trust the very people who made this mess to begin with? I do not understand the Queen and the princes being willing to associate with people from that world. It's an abomination, I tell you!" Reggie began, pleased to see Vernon nodding enthusiastically. "I have spoken to some of my friends and colleagues, and many of us feel the same way. I've arranged for a small gathering of like-minded people to discuss the current situation, and how we might best assure that the rights of us normal people are fully protected. We're gathering next Friday evening."

Actually, Petunia had been saying something about wanting to see a film that had arrived at the local movie theater, but he'd just suggest that they go either Thursday or Saturday. "I believe I can clear my schedule, Reggie, for an event such as this. Things are getting completely out of hand, I tell you. Normal people have to take a stand, to protect ourselves, and our way of life. I'd be happy to meet with others who feel as I do."

Reggie smiled and provided the meeting details, pleased that someone who'd actually seen magic, and magical people right up close, could join him and his friends. Vernon's input would really help galvanize their thinking and lead them to action.

Vernon enjoyed his tea and cigar, while Reggie sipped his Pimms, and Vernon had yet another opportunity to share his experiences with and thoughts about the magical world with another normal person who seemed quite impressed with him.

Vernon and Petunia saw the movie she wanted to see on Thursday evening, and were thus free to spend Friday evening in the Grand Ballroom of the Whinging Hotel with Reggie and his anti-wizard group. "Grand" was certainly not the right word to apply to the rather dingy, smallish room, where an eclectic group of forty or fifty citizens had gathered.

Reggie seemed to be in charge, at least, he was the one greeting people as they arrived and directing them to the sign-in sheets and into the room. He was most effusive in his welcome to Vernon, and fawned over Petunia in a most appropriate manner, as he guided them into the room and got them seated toward the front.

When the meeting began, however, Reggie offered the briefest of welcomes before turning the meeting over to a gentleman named Hiram Riddle. Hiram told his audience that he was from Little Hangleton, and offered several vague references to a career in real estate investments. At least, that explained his connection to Reggie, Vernon thought. Hiram then went on for a while about the evils of wizards, with particular venom reserved for the wizard king, Harry Potter.

Vernon's initial reaction upon seeing Hiram was exceedingly negative. The youngish man was dressed in obviously expensive and conservative clothing, and spoke in a crisp, well-educated manner, but the fellow wore his hair in a ponytail. Vernon had no use for hippies and other abnormal types – in particular, those who did not keep their hair trimmed. However, that negative reaction evaporated the instant Hiram began speaking ill of Harry Potter. Vernon began to nod and applaud the speaker vigorously from that point forward.

Beside him, Petunia was also looking at Mr. Riddle with some suspicion of her own. The clothes were expensive but she followed fashion enough to know that these were the kind of clothes that this young man's grandfather or even great-grandfather would wear. He also did not have the bearing of a leader. He spoke impressive words, and they were well-chosen words, but the impression she got was of a rather bad actor struggling with a script.

When Hiram had finished his remarks, Reggie led the applause and immediately hustled Vernon to stand next to him at the podium.

"Thank you, Mr. Riddle, for truly clarifying the scope of the enemy, as it were. Those of us who are normal British citizens need to mobilize, to protect ourselves and our families from this scourge of magic! That's why I asked you all here this evening. I met Mr. Riddle through my contacts in real estate, and knew he had a message that many of us would want to hear, and I appreciate your traveling to Little Whinging this evening, sir. I also met another person who speaks with much passion and authority about this evil, a gentleman from our own community! I'd like to introduce Mr. Vernon Dursley, and his lovely wife, Petunia. Mr. Dursley, I think the group would like to hear from you, if you please."

Reggie led the applause for Vernon as he settled his girth behind the podium. For just a moment, Vernon was taken aback; he'd had no idea he'd be asked to speak this evening and had no remarks prepared. But this was his mission and his passion. By the time the applause had ceased, he had his little speech outlined in his head, and he launched into it with gusto.

He began with the essential shiftlessness and probable drunkenness of those with magic, and worked his way toward their essential unnaturalness. He illustrated the latter with some of the things he'd observed in his short stint of wakefulness while at Hogwarts, amplified by some of the stories he'd heard Petunia tell, as well as a few she was pretty certain were pure fantasy. As he thundered toward the conclusion of his rant, he surprised himself, and his wife, with a shockingly blatant call for the normal people of the world to DO SOMETHING about this scourge of magic.

The room erupted in enthusiastic applause and shouting when he concluded his remarks, and Reggie was pumping his hand and patting his back as they stood together basking in the audience's appreciation for a few moments at the podium. A few others ventured forward to speak, all anti-wizard of course, but none had quite the fire that Vernon had.

After the last speaker had said his bit and taken his seat, Hiram stepped up to the podium. Now it was time to get this lot pointed to act on some of the rhetoric they'd heard this evening. He knew that there were a number of other like-minded groups forming up and immediately proposed to connect Reggie and this group of concerned citizens with others in Surrey and even London. People were making plans, and the good citizens of Little Whinging were going to be a part of something big.

Hiram touched a nerve, whether he understood this or not, when he spoke vaguely of taking "action" against magic. This was a group that would be very energized by talk of action, although from the looks of them, actually getting them to act might be a challenge. However, they were full of enthusiasm tonight, and very inspired by all they had heard. This might actually be the galvanizing event that propelled some of these talkers into becoming doers. The room was still abuzz when he invited them all to enjoy tea and some cake as he ended the meeting.

It was several hours later that Hiram was back in Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton. Of course, Riddle was not his real surname – he was a McNair. He and the other followers of Lord Voldemort who had undertaken a series of meetings this Friday with the anti-magic muggles had chosen names that, if searched, would ground their stories, if not in reality, at least in a real place. Most had taken the Riddle surname. They were not aware of the connection of Lord Voldemort to the Riddle family, but they were assured that the family had died out many years before and they were not going to encounter anyone who could challenge the stories they created for themselves. A few chose the Gaunt surname, another family line that ended in Little Hangleton, although one known to have magic. Others ventured forth using their own names, but referencing a base of operations, business or personal, in Little Hangleton.

The Death Eater who was the face of Lord Voldemort in the village had met an estate agent there named Bradley Westman. He was a gregarious fellow, who seemed to know everyone in Little Hangleton and quite a few people in other communities. Even better, his agency had arrangements with other agencies across England. The Imperius curse had quickly caused Bradley to present twenty or so Death Eaters to his colleagues across England. He introduced them as his own friends and neighbors, most in the real estate business in some way to justify the connections. A few introductions turned out to be to people who were favorably inclined to magic, but most hit paydirt, resulting in the Friday evening meetings

Voldemort was astonished at the virulence of the anti-magic movement among so many muggles. He was even more astonished by the ease with which his Death Eaters inserted themselves into those groups. These were not his most polished and mentally agile Death Eaters, either – it was completely shocking to learn that even Hiram McNair had succeeded in getting a group of 50 muggle business leaders all fired up. Muggles were quite a bit more gullible than he'd expected.

This was the first part of his new plan, and it was proceeding smoothly and ahead of schedule.

X X X X X X X X X X

Cornelius watched the small television set he'd set up in his sitting room, his face a mask of concentration.

The anti-magic movement was finally gaining ground in England. There were reports of a number of meetings held throughout the country last night, several of which were covered by reporters at the scene. There was a definite suggestion that action would begin soon. The muggle government was still urging calm, taking a position that the agitators were calling a pro-magic stance. The reporter pointed out that the government had clarified that it was neither for or against magic, but had accepted that there was magic in the world. Taking a line from the insufferable Harry Potter (who was an annoyingly frequent face on the television, along with the muggle royals), the government asserted that those who possessed magic seemed to include both good and bad people, and the government was confident of the good intentions of those working in the magical community to restore the world as best they could.

Something about that kept drawing Cornelius' attention. After several moments of thought, he realized what it was: there was no mention in this about a wizarding government or to any representative from that government. He pondered the messages, and with excitement, spread the assortment of English-language newspapers and periodicals he'd purchased locally across his dining room table. He spent a good half-hour reading and re-reading the articles that he'd already read several times before. No, there was no reference in any of this to Amelia Bones or anyone from the Ministry.

The fact that Harry Potter seemed to be the face of the wizarding world to the muggles was not of particular interest or concern. But it did raise a question: Was it possible, with all else that's been going on, Madam Bones had not yet found the time to make a courtesy call to the muggle Prime Minister?

Cornelius had recognized his vulnerability to losing his position of power as Minister of Magic several years ago. He was confident that Dumbledore was ready to move, to step beyond the walls of his ancient castle in Scotland and take control of the wizarding world. Cornelius liked being powerful and in-charge, and he wasn't going to give that up, and certainly not to someone like Albus Dumbledore!

Cornelius had always regarded Potter as a key pawn in a chess game. Dumbledore thwarted his attempt to adopt the boy last year, but that was hardly the only move Cornelius had planned. Oh, no, he'd had formulated other strategies to protect his position as Minister! Potter was no longer a pawn, he was clearly on Dumbledore's side. But one of Cornelius' other strategies had been unfolding, and while it seemed thwarted by the Ministry when it came to light a short while ago, maybe all was not lost! Possibly, it even paved the way for his return now.

Cornelius thought back on his contacts with the muggle Prime Minister over the past year. They were infrequent, to be sure, even as things deteriorated with the increased Death Eater activity. But he'd introduced the notion that there were some evil wizards out to wreak havoc in the world, and proposed that the muggle government could help Cornelius get matters under control. How convenient! Admittedly, things hadn't panned out as Cornelius had expected, but he'd introduced a notion that aligned beautifully with what eventually occurred, and even with the messaging offered by the muggles' own Royal Family. There was hope!

He had met with the man three times, mainly to discuss the Wizarding Registration Act. That had been a brilliant idea, if Cornelius did say so himself.

He'd grown up with stories about Bowtruckle Fever; two of his uncles had contracted it from a traveling business associate when the Fever had last been a health hazard in England a hundred years ago. He recalled stories of the children in the family brewing the potion to keep them alive; it was such a simple potion, even a muggle could brew it!

Between the careful use of the Imperius Curse and some good Obliviation charms, he'd been able to take this germ of an idea from his youth and turn it into an almost-successful move to cement his role as the leader of the wizarding world. And it might pave his way back into power now.

The Bowtruckle population itself, never very large, was restricted to a few small and isolated islands in the Indian Ocean. Hybridian Viper Weed was notoriously difficult to eradicate, but it was controlled, and kept at a distance from susceptible Bowtruckles. The last outbreak of Bowtruckle Fever was traced to a few wizards who'd traveled to the islands and returned to England with the infection. The few wizards today who were in regular contact with Bowtruckles, now better informed about the transmission of Bowtruckle Fever, always use very sophisticated decontamination charms when working with them, just in case, as do all visitors to those islands. There was no resistance to Bowtruckle Fever in the wizarding world today, and no stores of the potion needed to keep sufferers alive, because only a few cases of the Fever had been seen in a century. But that could change, very quickly.

At their first meeting to discuss the Wizarding Registration Act, in addition to proposing registration and a more accurate census, Cornelius had introduced the Prime Minister to the notion that wizards were susceptible to the same ills as muggles. He explained that their bodies processed illness differently, so they were not threatened by illness as muggles were. Cornelius proposed using vaccinations to prevent wizards from contracting and then spreading illness to muggles; if a wizard gets measles and it does not bother him or her, why risk the wizard passing measles to muggles as the wizard goes about his or her business? Why not get the wizards vaccinated, so they don't pose a risk?

Of course, wizards did not get measles or most of the other ailments addressed by the vaccine. It was not that they had those illnesses but suffered no symptoms, as Cornelius suggested; they didn't even carry the germs that gave anyone the diseases. But the muggles didn't need to know that.

Under the guise of testing vaccine for use with wizards (obliviated from memory once the testing had been done), Cornelius had used the Imperius Curse to cause a well-respected member of the Potions Guild to introduce a latent virus for Bowtruckle Fever into the muggle vaccine supply. The muggles had been using it for nearly a year now, with no adverse effect on themselves. Once the wizarding population was given those shots, though, Bowtruckle Fever would run rampant, with potentially devastating consequences.

At his second meeting with the Prime Minister, about eight months ago, Cornelius introduced the idea that wizards suffered from some maladies that did not impair their muggle cousins. He proposed that it would do much to cement relationships between the two groups if the muggles had on hand a significant store of the potion that was most efficacious in treating the worst of the wizard ills. He was prepared to use the Imperius Curse on the Prime Minister if it was necessary to procure his cooperation, but it turned out to be unnecessary.

The Prime Minister was a consummate politician, after all. He was only too happy to cause his government to have a contractor begin gathering a stockpile of the necessary ingredients and preparing batches of the medicine. All his conversations with the wizard minister had assumed that Fudge was their leader, and would continue to be the one who directed the affairs in the wizarding world. However, that might be short-sighted. If the ultimate or eventual result of the Wizarding Registration Act was to incorporate wizards into the existing political process, the Prime Minister wanted to be known as the man who anticipated the needs of the wizards and was sure to have his government ready to provide them with needed medicine. These witches and wizards might have votes someday!

The last meeting hadn't been a meeting really – Cornelius had firecalled through to the Prime Minister's office to report that the movement against him and those aligned with good had begun, and he needed the military assistance of his allies in the muggle government.

As Cornelius thought through each conversation, and considered what flowed from each conversation, he began to develop a story that was consistent with all that came before and would insert him back into the unfolding events as the leader of the wizarding world, at least in the eyes of the muggle government.

When Cornelius was confident that he'd created such a version of events and that painted him as the victim of a plot by the evil wizards behind this latest incident, he could establish that he had now returned to save his people. Of course, this was true only if no one from the Ministry of Magic had made contact and shared information that could contradict him. That was a risk he had (and was very willing) to take.

All he needed now was access, a way to reach the Prime Minister. There was a picture in the Ministry, in the corridor just outside the Minister's office, which was linked to one held in place by charms on the wall of the Prime Minister's office, through which visits were traditionally announced. That was clearly not available to Cornelius. He'd have to arrive unannounced.

He was also mindful of the possible presence of a member of the Auror corps tasked to work with the muggle government. There was certainly one there before Voldemort unleashed the sleeping spell, and he had to assume at least one continued to serve there. He'd have to take a chance there, although if he arrived after work hours, it was possible that the Auror will have gone home for the day. An Auror would recognize him immediately, and know that he was an escaped prisoner. That would not do.

Another big question: had anyone dismantled the floo connection on the fireplace in the Prime Minister's office, or had there been any security installed on that floo connection? He was not aware that there had ever been any security on the floo in the Prime Minister's office – who from the wizarding world would ever want to visit there? Given all that had been going on in the world, it was really unlikely that anyone had disabled the connection. No, the risk was probably more that someone thought to add security, but if no one had visited, they might not have thought anything about it.

Another careful read through the newspapers established that the Prime Minister was in England, as there were mentions of his conducting meetings in London.

No time like the present, was there?

Cornelius brushed off his most conservative business robes, and spent a few extra minutes making sure he looked the very image of a successful, if slightly overworked, politician. He apparated from his flat back to Knockturn Alley, and used the floo by which he'd arrived there from the Ministry to go instead to the muggle Prime Minister's office. It was just nearing 6 p.m., a time he'd had at least one of his meetings in the Prime Minister's office in the past. He hoped for the best.

Timing is everything in this world. Cornelius found himself stepping out of the floo into a darkened and empty office, with no one around. With a "harrumph" and look of annoyance, he tapped his foot for a few minutes, considering his options. Did he want to just have a seat and wait the man out? He did not want to appear as an intruder – he felt it was best to be seen actually arriving via floo, to reinforce who he was. Plus, it was only just after business hours – what if the Prime Minister had an evening engagement and was not returning until tomorrow morning? Worse, what if an Auror assigned to work here had reason to enter the office, even in the Prime Minister's absence, while he was waiting?

He quietly walked to the door to the office, and listened for any sign of activity outside in the secretaries' space. All was silent.

Annoyed, Cornelius fished some floo powder from a pocket in his robes and returned to Knockturn Alley. He was lucky. The little man in the picture on the Prime Minister's wall who usually arranged visits for the Minister of Magic had wandered to visit with a portrait back in the Ministry, and returned to the picture just seconds after the green light faded from the floo.

Cornelius was very anxious to meet with the Prime Minister. Having made up his mind and worked out his approach, he felt that there was nothing to be gained by waiting. He decided to have dinner himself, and try to visit again in a couple of hours.

Cornelius would have loved to visit one of the finer dining establishments on Diagon Alley but knew that was folly. He'd be recognized. While he was probably safe from being apprehended if he stuck to Knockturn alley, he had no intention of eating in any of the grungy pubs in this part of the community. That left the muggle community off Diagon Alley. He had to apparate, as there was no chance of his going through the Leaky Cauldron unrecognized. There were several safe places scattered around London for apparition. Most were near the Ministry, so those were out of the question, as were the ones near Diagon Alley, but Cornelius remembered others, in more "muggle" areas. He selected one near Covent Garden, enjoyed a most delectable Indian dinner, and was back in Knockturn Alley two hours later.

The seedy pub whose floo connection he had been using was much more crowded now, and Cornelius felt a twinge of discomfort. He kept his eyes down as he slowly threaded his way through the foul-smelling throng. He hadn't thought about the number of patrons a pub like this would attract at various hours of the day. He realized only now that he'd only been in the place at what were probably its slowest times. He chanced a quick look up to get a sense of the crowd, and was horrified to recognize several miscreants who he thought he'd sent to Azkaban, at least one of whom he knew had been sentenced to be kissed.

Fortunately, the floo connection was in a fireplace in an alcove behind the main room and not in the fireplace that warmed the pub. Cornelius was able to slink around the outside of the room, head down and collar up, avoiding contact with anyone who might realize who he was, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the floo without attracting any unwanted attention. In a second, he was gone.

And he was in luck!

He stepped out of the green flames into the Prime Minister's office to find the man himself sitting alone behind his desk, looking tired and frazzled, and now a bit edgy.

Brushing a bit of soot from his robes, Cornelius strode confidently over to the desk to shake the man's hand, muggle-style, while schooling his features to mirror the Prime Minister's work-weariness.

"Mr. Prime Minister, good to see you again. Cornelius Fudge, I'm sure you remember me."

The Prime Minister looked at his guest – his unbidden guest – and thought to himself how difficult it would be to ever forget this annoying person. He was about to nod for Fudge to take the seat across from his desk but realized it was unnecessary, as Cornelius had already sat down.

"Bad times, bad times, I tell you!" Cornelius began. "I called for your help too late, and my enemies were able to prevent your troops from arriving to help me. But I do appreciate that you came to my assistance. And then, no great surprise, they were able to create this terrible mess. I was able to escape from my enemies, but it was difficult. And things are dire, dire indeed."

The Prime Minister had quite enough problems of his own, and was actually feeling grateful for the cooperation he'd been getting from the magical people lately, so he was a bit surprised to hear the tone of Fudge's assessment. He took a breath to respond with a question about what, exactly, was "dire" when Fudge was already speaking again.

"I've been watching developments here in England from abroad, and when I saw that Harry Potter on the television with your royal family, well, I knew I had to get in touch with you somehow. I put aside the personal danger to me in returning to England while control of the Ministry is in the hands of the perpetrators of this disaster." Cornelius was actually referring to the disaster of his ouster as Minister, but he wasn't going to clarify. The misdirection suited him perfectly. "That boy is aligned with the very worst element in the magical world. A menace, actually. I fear for your royal family, consorting with the likes of him!"

"What do you mean, Fudge? The Royal Family is quite taken with the young man, and we've been told he's the King of the wizarding world, for goodness sake." The Prime Minister was clearly confused by Cornelius' characterization of Harry. The Queen herself seemed very fond of the young man. In his many years in service to the government, the Prime Minister had learned that she was a very astute judge of people. If she felt the young man was a good sort, that should be good enough for him. Shouldn't it?

"He's a very powerful wizard, Prime Minister. He can muddle thoughts, influence people, make people like him – he's that strong!" The Prime Minister paled bit as he thought back to his first meeting with the wizarding Minister; hadn't he caused a world leader to forget their call scheduled for that night, so he could meet with the wizarding Minister himself? They can do this?

Cornelius saw what he thought was a slight waver in the Prime Minister's conviction, and he moved aggressively to exploit it.

Cornelius spent two hours in the Prime Minister's office, working through this carefully-constructed story, taking the man through the current events with which he was familiar, adding a spin or twist to the story that cast Potter and Dumbledore and the others in the worst possible light. The story was shocking, involving a level of political intrigue and deceit that appalled the man. In fact, if he hadn't known for a fact that this man was the Minister of Magic, the Prime Minister would never have believed it!

The meeting was never interrupted this evening because the Prime Minister's plans had changed at the last minute. When the Prime Minister realized that the after-dinner entertainment was a musical performance by an entertainer for whom he'd never cared, he stayed for just a few minutes before quietly slipping out, and returning to his office. He staff had all gone home, which included of course the staff member who also served as an Auror in the wizarding government. The little man in the painting never stayed in his picture once the Minister was obviously gone for the day; he prefer to visit with his friends in other portraits in London.

When the meeting finally drew to a close, the Prime Minister summoned the heads of his Army and Navy to discuss an attack on the stronghold of the evil wizards behind the atrocities that had been unleashed against the world. He'd learned that they were holed up in an ancient castle in Scotland, and had someone who could guide them in for a strategic airstrike.

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry had spent an enjoyable evening with his friends playing exploding snaps in the Gryffindor common room, but was finally persuaded by Hermione's persistent nagging to get going on his summer assignments. He truly loved that about his friends. This king business? His marriage to Severus Snape? All the other things going on? No matter. Hermione was fixated on his doing his summer homework, and relentless in her insistence that he get working on it.

His grades for the prior year had been surprisingly satisfactory; he was certainly proud, and thought he detected a slight smile on Severus' face when they discussed Harry's accomplishments. Of course, that meant that he'd be proceeding on with more advanced studies in some difficult courses in his final year, and when the course assignments and book lists were distributed, he had to get working on some rather demanding assignments.

Harry found Severus in his lab, making a mess with some of the ingredients he and Neville had brought back from the Winter Lands. Several destroyed cauldrons were stacked against the wall, and the way things were bubbling and oozing in the cauldron currently over the flame, it appeared this batch of whatever was not going well, either. And Severus looked absolutely fascinated by the whole process, not a bit put out about the failures accumulating.

Rather than interrupt, Harry quietly took a seat at his desk off to the side, and put a shield in place, just in case. He opened his books, took out a parchment and quill, and started working on his summer essay for his advanced Charms class.

Harry was vaguely aware of the ravens. They'd been back for several days now, whispering and chattering, but not saying anything clearly enough for Harry to make out. As he'd said he would, he told Severus about it, but given the fact that Harry had no idea what, if anything, they were trying to convey to him, he and Severus decided to wait and see if this ever became clear.

After about an hour of work on his Charms essay, Harry realized that the ravens were whispering more loudly, and he thought he heard words. He put down his quill, and sat very still, concentrating.

Visions of rooms filled with people filled his head. He heard random words, but detected a pattern. These appeared to be muggles, decrying the scourge of magic, and planning to take action against it. There were lots of images of the same basic thing – were there lots of these gatherings?

Then there was an image, more familiar to Harry from the scenes of movies he'd sometimes seen on the telly at the Dursleys, old war movies. There were troops with their weapons and it looked like they were running into helicopters and other transports. Harry had never really enjoyed war movies, so he pondered why on earth he'd think of that now.

The last image was of a raging battle, with bombs being dropped from airplanes and troops (the troops he'd just seen?) hiding behind trees, shooting at their enemies. Parts of this image seemed familiar, but with all the smoke from the bombs and guns, it was hard to see. Harry was aware of trying to turn, to see the scene from a different angle, to see if there were any landmarks that would help him identify the location.

Finally, Harry was able to see where this battle was raging. It was right outside Hogwarts, and the bombs were falling on the castle and all over the grounds. The troops were in the Dark Forest, using the trees as cover as they shot at the people in the castle. Someone was attacking the castle!

Harry stood blindly, knocking over the stool on which he'd been sitting. He felt his blood run cold. He had heard the ravens clearly this time:

"It has begun."


	46. Ch 123 A Near Miss

Chapter 123 – A Near Miss

Severus was aware of Harry's arrival in his laboratory, of course. But he was at a particularly delicate stage in testing one of the tinctures he had received from Tante, brewed from a plant in the Winter Lands with which he was completely unfamiliar. Even with the benefit of her cautionary notes, it was proving to be a very volatile substance; its use in a very basic potion had already resulted in one cauldron exploding, another being nearly melted through and at least one other probably ruined when the potion within caught fire and burned out of control, leaving a brittle crust. Each mess only reinforced Severus' belief that the potential in these Winter Lands materials was enormous, once he discovered how to safely use them. The growing pile of ruined cauldrons against the wall attested to his commitment to that discovery.

Severus was finally at a point that he could safely take a break from his brewing, and was just about to speak to Harry, when he became aware that Harry was staring into space with a look of alarm on his face. Before he could say something to draw Harry's attention back to the lab, Harry had stood up, the look of alarm now one of horror, sending his stoo clattering onto the stone floor.

The noise drove Severus to act. He needed just a second to disable the shield Harry had put in place, and raced to Harry's side, not sure what was wrong, but wanting to provide whatever assistance or support he could. The episode took just a few seconds, before Harry seemed to become aware of his surroundings once more, and he sagged into Severus' arms.

"It's starting, Severus. The ravens showed me – muggles are getting ready to attack Hogwarts! It looked like soldiers, muggle soldiers, and, and . . ." Harry was near to hyperventilating as the words rushed out. He was trying to make sense of the scenes he'd just been shown, to put some order to it all, but he was panicking as well. What if the attack was beginning right now?

This was clearly something that needed to be brought to the attention of the Headmaster, immediately, so Severus guided Harry into the sitting room and settled him on the sofa while he firecalled up to the Headmaster's office.

"Albus, Harry has had a vision, from the ravens, and we need to speak to you right away," he said as soon as he broke through to the flames in the other man's office. The tension and worry was clear in his voice.

Albus was on his feet immediately, a look of alarm on his face. "I'll floo down, Severus. Be sure Harry is all right."

Severus had no intention of doing anything but seeing to Harry at this point. He was sitting next to him on the sofa, offering a mild calming draught, just as Albus stepped through the floo.

Albus was worried at the concern shown by Severus, even without knowing what exactly had happened. He took a seat in one of the chairs next to the sofa, and peered intently at Harry, to assure himself that the young man was capable of a conversation. The wizarding world needed Harry as it never did before, and once again, the burden on those small shoulders was enormous. He waited patiently for a moment, allowing the calming draught to do its work, before leaning forward to pose his questions.

"Are you alright now, Harry?" was his first question, and in response, Harry was able to manage a shaky nod. Albus reached out of offer a consoling pat on the hand, before sitting back and continuing.

"I'd like to know what you saw, in as much detail as possible, so I can get word to the right places. What exactly did you see?" he asked, as gently as he could.

Harry leaned into Severus, practically forcing Severus' arm around his shoulders, as he took a deep, slightly-less- shaky breath.

"I'm fine now, sir. I was sitting in the lab working on a summer homework essay, when the ravens came back. They've been around a few times over the last week, but whispering too softly to be understood. Today, they showed me visions: I saw large rooms, I saw groups of muggles, and they appeared to be meeting someplace. It was vague, but I got the impression that there were many meetings, all stirring up anti-wizard sentiments. I couldn't make out faces, or specifics of where they were, but there were isolated words that made it through that showed me they were angry with us."

Harry took a breath. "And then they showed me muggle soldiers. It looked like armed soldiers were boarding helicopters – those are like airplanes, but they don't need runways – and trucks." Albus had looked puzzled at the reference to "helicopters" and appreciated the explanation.

"I think they are coming here, because the final vision was of a battle being waged. The soldiers were in a forest. I saw the smoke from guns being fired, and I heard the sound of bullets and mortar hitting something. They were dropping bombs, too, so there were loud explosions. It took me a few moments to get a wider view – it was just outside of Hogwarts. The soldiers were in the Dark Forest, and they were attacking the castle!" Harry was wringing his hands; but for the calming draught, he'd not have been able to get this far. He just had a bit more to add.

"And the ravens told me, clearly – the first thing they've said in days now that was clear enough to understand – "It has begun."

Harry sagged into Severus even more, as Albus leaned back in his chair. He sat still and quiet for a moment, sending his own magic out to check the wards. A flicker of relief crossed his face as he realized the castle wards were unmolested.

"Not to worry, at least right now, Harry. The castle wards are fine, no attack has occurred. I believe the ravens have shown you what is planned, but not yet occurred, at least in part."

Harry seemed to be calmed by that, but Severus was perplexed. "But, Albus, the spells and enchantments that protect the castle make it impossible for a muggle to see it if they don't know where it is. How can the muggle army even find us?"

Albus had identified that same problematic issue himself. "I've no idea, Severus. Perhaps someone is guiding them. Who that might be, I can't begin to guess."

The old man seemed to reach a decision. He slowly got to his feet and looked at one of the house elves standing (invisibly, it thought) against the wall, and beckoned to the little creature. "Would you please locate Kingsley Shacklebolt and ask him to join us right away up in my office?" Turning back to Harry and Severus, he asked "And would you two be amenable to joining us there, as well? I need to alert the Ministry of Magic about this. They have an Auror stationed at the muggle Prime Minister's office. If the muggle military is engaging, the Prime Minister's office must be involved."

With surprising energy, the Headmaster activated the floo to return to his office, trusting that the others would follow. Severus stood first, and extended his hand to help Harry stand as well. Harry seemed reluctant to let go of Severus' hand, as he needed comfort.

"Why are they attacking the school, Severus? After all the Ministry did, why are they turning on us?" he asked in a soft voice.

"No idea. Let's see what we can find out from Kingsley. Maybe the Ministry knows something."

Harry and Severus arrived in the Headmaster's office just moments before Kingsley, who seemed surprised to have been summoned because he'd only just gotten information that he wanted to share.

"I'm sorry that I don't have details yet, sir. I just received an owl from the Ministry. Apparently, the Prime Minister summoned his entire staff back to the office tonight, and he will be meeting with the Queen tomorrow morning. Our Auror has been able to deduce that there is planning afoot for some sort of military operation, but we have no confirmation yet as to the target. It does seem to have something to do with magic, hence the Auror's immediate report to the Ministry."

Albus heaved a troubled sigh and shook his head sadly.

"Unfortunately, Kingsley, I believe that we are the targets, here at Hogwarts."

Kingsley looked shocked. What on earth caused the Headmaster to suspect that? The muggles didn't even know where Hogwarts is, and why would they be attacking a school?

Albus continued. "It would be extremely helpful to ascertain what triggered this. Everything was fine a few hours ago, but now the muggles are going to war. What happened?"

In response to the look of incredulity on Kingsley's face, he added "We do, indeed, have reason to believe the target is Hogwarts. That raises other questions. How are they going to find Hogwarts? The spells and enchantments keep it hidden from muggle eyes, unless someone has told them about the castle and where to find it, so I have to assume someone from our world is helping them. And don't the muggles realize that their weapons will not be effective? Their muggle bombs and bullets will not penetrate our wards."

Severus had a suggestion. "Might we invite the Minister and her senior team to meet with Mr. Potter and his advisors here at Hogwarts, right away? Some explanation as to why we believe Hogwarts is the target is probably in order, and if whatever the muggle Prime Minister is doing requires consultation with the Queen, we have floo access to Balmoral Castle from here."

Albus nodded, smiling now. "Excellent thought, Severus!"

The Ministry might have a new Minister of Magic, but the simmering resentment directed toward Albus and Hogwarts that defined the paranoia of the prior Minster might still linger in some parts of the Ministry. Extending this invitation from Harry, and conducting the meeting in his offices, would make the invitation difficult, indeed, to resist. And they'd never actually told the Ministry about the ravens. It was probably time.

"Kingsley, would you try to arrange such a meeting in Harry's offices, in half an hour or so?"

Kingsley nodded his head. His experience with Albus Dumbledore was extensive enough that he had learned not to question even the most bizarre statements. The idea of muggles attacking Hogwarts was preposterous, but who was he to argue? He went off to make the arrangements.

Harry found his voice. "I take it no one ever told the Minister about the Ravens?"

Severus directed a questioning look at Albus; he certainly had no reason to tell the Ministry anything, so the decision to share that information was Albus' alone. Harry concluded from that look that this was not something that Severus and the Headmaster had discussed without him, and was inwardly pleased.

Albus smiled at Harry. "I do try to respect your privacy, Harry, please believe that. I never saw any reason to tell anyone anything about the Ravens, or the paths that I understand you see sometimes. Now that we better understand the power inherent in having such information, I think you'll agree we must tell the Minister."

Harry thought to himself, "at least this Minister is trustworthy," and then he chuckled when the old man continued "I'm sure you agree that Minister Bones can be trusted with sensitive information and will use it for the good."

"My thoughts, exactly, Sir. Spoken by you just as I thought them, too," Harry explained.

Harry was quiet as he and Severus walked across the landing to his offices. He had grave reservations about being regarded as even more of a freak when his magical familiars (if that is, indeed, what the Ravens were) were revealed, let alone how his "visions" would be received. He was mollified a bit by the way the Headmaster had been so matter-of-fact, and Severus was taking this seriously, as well. Their reactions were hardly predictive of how the Minister and her people would react, but it was encouraging.

Severus noticed how quiet Harry was, and took advantage of their momentary privacy in Harry's conference room to be sure Harry was alright with this meeting. Severus had perched on the end of the large table and pulled Harry to stand before him, putting the two a bit more eye-to-eye. He kept his hands lightly but firmly on Harry's shoulders, as he'd noticed that Harry seemed to crave contact after this vision. "Do you have reservations about proceeding, Harry? It might be a bit late to cancel, but if this is too much for you. . " he trailed off, offering a way out if this was too much for the younger man.

"No, no, Severus," Harry replied, pleased at Severus' attentiveness. "I'm fine. We have to do something – the worst course of action would be not to act. The Ministry needs to know about this, and I need to be the one to tell them. I can do it. I'm glad you're with me, and the Headmaster, too, but I need to do this myself. I think it is the only way."

It was Severus' turn to sigh. As much as he wanted to shield Harry from this sort of thing, it was obviously part of the Gryffindor mindset to face things square on. That didn't make it easier to deal with, but it was an explanation of sorts.

When Severus stood, Harry did not move back, but stepped into his bondmate, holding the man around the waist. Severus accepted the gesture and folded his arms around Harry's shoulders, holding him in a tight embrace. Severus looked down and smoothed the dark hair that was pressed against his chest.

For his part, Harry pressed his ear firmly against Severus' chest and reveled in the warmth of the returned hug and the comforting strokes of his unruly hair. But best of all was the infinitely soothing sound of the beating of Severus' heart. As he often found it wonderful to fall asleep to the sounds of that heartbeat, this evening, he found that he drew calmness and courage from it.

Harry was confident that he could do this.

Just a short while later, the floo in Harry's offices sprang to life with green flames, and the Minister of Magic and several of her key advisors, as well as half a dozen Aurors, stepped through. Harry greeted each in turn, and Severus got the guests all pointed to chairs around the wooden table. Finally, Harry and Severus took the last two seats, at the head of the table. Albus had arrived while the others were gathering and was directed to a seat of prominence across from the Minister herself, but the overall seating arrangement conveyed clearly that this was Harry's meeting, not Albus', although Severus was prepared to step in to assist, if necessary.

"Thank you for joining us here on such short notice," Harry began. His tone was gracious, but strong, reflecting the confidence he felt growing within himself.

"Allow me to share a bit of the story behind the reason for this meeting," he continued. Despite the terrible pressure felt by the people from the Ministry to get back there to prepare to deal with whatever was going on with the muggle Minister's office, Harry's voice had a steely quality that caused them to sit still and listen.

"In the weeks before Voldemort sent all of us to sleep, I began to have visions. I could not make out their meaning; birds would whisper things in my ear that I often couldn't understand, or show me images that did not make much sense to me," and with a gesture to encompass Severus and Albus, he added "or to us."

"The most significant vision was of a city that I could not identify. I only saw that all the people within that city were dead. It was upsetting, horrifying, actually, but I had no idea what it meant. In retrospect, I believe I was shown what Voldemort had planned to do, unfortunately just not with enough detail to enable me to prevent it."

The Minister saw where this was likely heading – Harry must have had another vision. The reference to "birds," though, really shocked her, as well as all the Aurors in the room.

The head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department had told her about the theory that Hermione Granger was researching, about magical transference, as he'd given the young woman access to his Aurors to pursue her research. She'd been very impressed with Hermione's project, and pleased at the Aurors' initiative in assisting her.

In an idle conversation one recent day, one of the younger Aurors had wondered aloud to his colleagues if it might be possible for a magical artifact to transfer its magic when it was destroyed, and that captured the imaginations of others. That had also reached the Minister's ears, so she was aware of the speculation about what might have happened when the Eye of Odin exploded in Harry's hand just over a year ago. Might any of the magic in the Eye of Odin have transferred to another? And if so, to whom?

She had to ask. "Mr. Potter, the birds who speak to you – might they be ravens?"

Harry was a bit surprised himself that she had figured that out so quickly. "Yes, ma'am, I believe they are ravens."

The Minister quieted her colleagues, who had begun to whisper among themselves. "I have heard of Mr. Potter's friend's theory that magic may be released when a wizard is killed. Is it possible that this can also occur when a strong magical artifact is destroyed? If so, do remember who was holding the Eye of Odin when it was destroyed, and recall your history about the Eye."

Harry nodded at her, the room suddenly having gone silent. "Thank you, Madam Minister. I don't know if we can prove the theory about the destruction of a magical artifact, but that incident is part of what caused Hermione Granger to decide to research magical transference."

It was unintended, but that little aside had largely removed the usual unwillingness to believe a vision shared by anyone other than a highly-renowned seer. The pedigree of a vision provided by ravens, given what had occurred a year ago with the Eye of Odin, gave Harry's vision instant credibility.

"The Ravens have been around for a while now, but not saying anything I could actually hear," Harry continued. "Until tonight. They showed me three visions." Harry recounted the visions he'd already described to Albus and Severus. He concluded, "And when the visions were over, they said, very clearly, "It has begun." That was the first time I've heard them clearly in months."

The Minister seemed perplexed. She asked Darmut, "Did Auror Entwhistle say anything in his reports from the muggle Minister's office since the muggles woke up that would suggest they were turning on us to this extent?"

The somber man shook his head. "No, ma'am. Up until today, everything had been fine. If anything, young Entwhistle felt that the Prime Minister was quite supportive of good relations between muggles and those with magic. The notion that the muggles should now attack us seemed to come out of the blue."

The Minister took a deep breath, and looked once again at Harry. Back in her days as an Auror, Amelia Bones would have grilled Harry extensively about these visions. It was her nature to be suspicious and unwilling to accept a story like this unless and until she'd poked at it and challenged it and forced its retelling in different words several times. Something about the look on Harry's face quelled this instinct. The young man wasn't glaring, as his bondmate was known to do, and there was none of Albus' deceptively-twinkling steeliness. But beneath the calm politeness, there was something the Minister knew she could not question. She'd never seen anything like this, and really did not know what to do about it.

"So, Mr. Potter, you say they are planning to attack here. You are certain that it was Hogwarts Castle you saw, not some other fortress or castle?" She was willing to press for that degree of clarification.

Harry was not offended by the question – he'd posed it to himself several times since his original vision. "Yes, ma'am. When I was seeing the vision, I was desperate to see where I was, and I made a great effort to turn away from the source of the attack, to see the target. It was absolutely Hogwarts."

The Minister looked at Albus. "And the wards are untouched?"

He smiled slightly. It was hard to believe that someone from the Ministry hadn't assessed the wards at Hogwarts before she traveled here. "Yes, Minister. The very first thing I did after hearing of Harry's vision was to check them all. No intrusions or attacks are under way."

The Minister pondered her options. The muggles were out there, assumed to be planning to do something. He own Auror confirmed that much, and Harry Potter was adamant their target was Hogwarts.

"I think it is time that I pay a visit to the muggle Prime Minister and speak to him about this. Did Entwhistle believe that whatever they are up to is against everyone with magic, or are the muggles just targeting one place, presumably Hogwarts?" she asked her team.

Several of the Department Heads looked horrified at the thought of their Minister placing herself in danger. Darmut, however, realized that it hadn't been that long since she'd been an Auror herself, and a very good one at that. If anything went amiss, pity the muggles, not her.

Darmut answered, "Entwhistle's last report indicated that he believed that the Prime Minister was still favorably disposed toward magic. Entwhistle suspects that the Prime Minister thinks he's going after rogue wizards, possibly ones who meant harm to muggles. He has no idea what prompted the change, though. As we reported earlier, everyone in the office had left for the day and then been summoned back, later in the evening, and all of this was immediately afoot."

The Minister made up her mind. "We'll return to the Ministry, and I'll have the little man in the painting at the Ministry inform the muggle Prime Minister that I will step through." As she stood, and the others around the table followed suit, she added almost as an afterthought, "How unfortunate that I must meet the man over an incident like this; with all that's been going on, I have not taken the time to visit him before."

"Please keep me informed, Amelia," Albus added as he walked his old friend over to the floo. "I'll send word if we detect anything here, of course. Even if the muggles have someone who can tell them where to look to see the castle, the wards will repel any muggle weaponry." Albus was about to help her into the floo when it occurred to him that there might be a risk to the muggles themselves in this attack. "Harry told me the muggles were using some sort of transportation – some kind of airplane that does not need a runway, he described it. I don't know what will happen if they try to land that airplane here – they can't get within the wards, of course, but hitting the wards might cause damage to the airplane. We'll keep our eyes on that."

The Minister thanked him for that, and nodded a good-bye to Harry and his bondmate as she threw down a handful of powder and disappeared into green flames. It took just a few minutes for the Ministry contingent to depart via the floo.

Albus had noticed a rather distraught house elf standing near the door; as no one from the Ministry had said anything, he assumed the elf had not made herself generally visible. Harry noticed the house elf at the same instant, and spoke to her.

"Casable, is that you?" he inquired, to be sure he had the name correct.

The little elf, already very nervous and wringing her hands, nearly jumped when she heard her name, bursting out in tears.

"Oh, Mister Harry Potter! That you even recall Casable's name! And so graciously acknowledge Casable – such a remarkable, kind, gracious wizard!" she blurted around her sobs.

Before she could continue for too much time down this conversational path, Harry interrupted. "Please, Casable, it appeared that something was amiss, or possibly you had something you needed to tell the Headmaster, or me?" he offered.

With a very intentional blink of her huge eyes, Casable focused on the question, and remembered that she did, indeed, have worrisome news to share.

"Well, Mr. Harry Potter, and Professor Headmaster Dumbledore, and Mr. Harry Potter's Beloved Bondmate", which reference drew a bit of a scowl from Severus, "Casable is visiting at Balmoral Castle tonight, and hears that the muggle princes are very upset. Casable is told that someone is visiting their grandmother tomorrow, and wants to be starting a war against Hogwarts! All the elves are upset. We don't want any of our castles in a war, sirs!" She began sobbing again, as her focus returned to the reason she'd returned to Hogwarts right away and sought out the Headmaster.

Albus nodded at the little creature with a gentle smile on his face. "Thank you, Casable. That was very responsible of you," at which point the elf stood up quite straight and proud. "We heard about the attack and have told the Ministry, and the Minister is addressing this. But we are very grateful that you confirmed what we suspected, and you've helped us avoid this disaster."

X X X X X X X X X X

The Minister's staff summoned the little man in the painting in the hallway outside her office, and asked that he return to his portrait in the muggle Prime Minister's office, to announce that she would be stepping through momentarily. He was not entirely happy to have to return to that dreary painting, although he knew his duty, and sauntered off after acknowledging the request.

The little man heaved a sigh as he entered his picture in the office at 10 Downing Street. This room was so boring, so typically muggle! He saw the Prime Minister sitting at his desk, as usual, although he appeared to be working a bit more diligently than was his standard. This one was a slacker, this Prime Minister.

The little man cleared his throat, several times, to attract the Prime Minister's attention. Once he saw the man look over, with distress, he proceeded. "Attention, Prime Minister. The Minister of Magic advises that she will be stepping through your floo connection in the next five minutes, to introduce herself and consult with you on matters of mutual interest."

The Prime Minister was so rattled by the announcement from the oil painting, which had been blessedly silent for a long while now, he never noticed that the references to the Minister of Magic referred to "she." He cleared up the papers on his desk, and prepared to receive Cornelius Fudge.

The grate in the large fireplace suddenly sprang to life with those odd green flames, and to the Prime Minister's surprise, a sedately-dressed woman stepped out of the fireplace. She adjusted her robes, and brushed a bit of ash off the sleeve, and approached him to introduce herself.

"Hello, Mr. Prime Minister. I am Amelia Bones, the Minister of Magic. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to visit your office and introduce myself, but as I'm sure you can imagine, we've been busy," she began, extending her hand, muggle-style, to shake the Prime Minister's hand in greeting.

For his part, the Prime Minister looked completely confused and more than a little suspicious.

"Who are you? You aren't the Minister of Magic – I know Cornelius Fudge!" he blurted out, taking a step back.

Amelia sighed, as she withdrew her hand and took a seat, unbidden, across from the Prime Minister's desk. "Please have a seat, and I'll explain," she said politely.

The Prime Minister was not in the mood for games, but the lady sitting in the chair across his desk looked harmless enough, with her dark hair primly collected in a bun, and her plain robes creating a rather matronly image. Not really knowing what to do, the Prime Minister took the path of least resistance, and did as she told him to do.

"Mr. Fudge is no longer Minister of Magic. We don't know exactly what sent him off, but when he called on you to send troops to take over our Ministry, it was clear that he was terrified of being ousted from his role. Of course, your troops couldn't find the Ministry, so nothing came of that, but in the chaos that followed, we found out what he'd done. The Wizarding Registration Act that you and he were negotiating was an act of treason, you see."

The Prime Minister looked scared that that. He certainly hadn't intended to do anything so anti-magic in that legislation! Was he going to be held accountable for whatever was done? And what did that mean, in the magical world?

Amelia continued with her most calming voice, not wanted to terrify the obviously hoodwinked Prime Minister. "Fudge had only disclosed the first part of the Act to the magical community, and it was roundly opposed. But we saw the documentation about the second part once he was in custody and we inspected his office. Wizards are immune to the diseases for which the Act proposed to vaccinate us – that made no sense at all. When we saw the lists of materials he had asked you to begin acquiring, his plan became clear to us. We believe that he was going to use this whole vaccination process to infect the magical community with Bowtruckle Fever, and he was having you stockpile the ingredients for an old remedy, once it was needed. I don't know what he told you – we haven't had a real outbreak of Bowtruckle Fever in over 100 years, and the remedy he seemingly wanted you to stockpile is highly narcotic and addictive, far from optimal."

The Prime Minister was appalled by this. He had to consider if it was possible that this woman was an imposter, but she'd been announced by the portrait as the Minister of Magic. He decided to tell her what he'd been told, if it offered some explanation. "Mr. Fudge told me that wizards do get those diseases, but are not really sickened by them. He said that a wizard could pass the illness along to someone else, such as a person without magic, even though the wizard was not showing any signs of illness. That was why he proposed that we have you all vaccinated, so you could interact with us without possibly infecting us with diseases."

Amelia nodded, and went on, "Well, that does explain why you went along with the idea of vaccinations. However, it is more probable that he was planning to use the vaccines to infect wizards, not protect muggles. And, unfortunately, all this would do is make many wizards and witches sick. It became clear to us that Cornelius wanted to cement his position of Minister by enslaving the wizarding world. He was going to make everyone ill with a Fever that would kill us if we did not take medicine for the rest of our lives. He seemed to have the idea that we'd take the remedy he had you stockpiling, which he knew would render us all addicted and feeble. What he seemed not to have realized is that no one takes that remedy any longer. There is a very effective, non-addictive and non-narcotic potion available now, and it is the remedy of choice. We'd all be sick, but his position would not be secured."

The Prime Minister looked suitably horrified at this. Even by his own standards, it was horrifying to cause an entire population to become sick with something that the Minister of Magic said could actually kill them, just so he could retain his political power. But he remembered that was not all he'd learned from Fudge.

"Fudge told me that the wizarding world was coming under the influence of a terrible, dangerous wizard! He said we needed to unite against this menace to prevent him from taking over the entire world and enslaving us all," he ventured, to see how true that statement was.

Amelia smiled. "Ah, yes, Cornelius' irrational fear of Harry Potter. Actually, Cornelius had tried to court Harry Potter's favor, and even tried to adopt him at one point, as the boy – he's 17, actually – is an orphan. But Harry would have none of it. He sees Cornelius for what he is, a power-mad fool, and made it clear that he would not support Cornelius. I think it was becoming clear to Cornelius that his days in power were numbered, and that was behind his efforts to enlist you to his cause."

"But Fudge was here tonight! He told me this just a few hours ago," the Prime Minister offered, suddenly recalling that he initially did not believe the amazing story he'd been told, accepting it only because a man he knew to be the Minister himself had told him so.

Amelia was surprised to hear that. "We had Cornelius under arrest in our Ministry, but he was able to escape a month or so ago. He disappeared, and we assumed he left the country. He's been back?"

"He arrived in the fireplace, like always, like you just did."

"Was he announced, as I just was?" Amelia asked, slipping into Auror mode.

The Prime Minister thought for a few seconds. "Now that you mention it, he wasn't. I heard the wooshing noise those green flames make, and here he was. He told me that his enemies had taken control of the Ministry, and were aligned with Potter, who is dangerous and planning to control the world. He told me that the only way for us to escape enslavement was to attack the stronghold where Potter and his allies are holed up, in a castle in Scotland, he said. He was going to come along with us, to show us where it is."

Amelia's mind was racing, as she considered options.

"Do you remember, by any chance, what Cornelius said as he left your office? I assume he left via the floo – the fireplace, no?"

The Prime Minister nodded mutely, trying to remember in as much detail as he could, what transpired when Fudge left.

"He mumbled something – all I could make out was 'Alley' at the end of what he said.

Amelia could think of several destinations that included the word "Alley," but only one stood out as a place that a wizard keen to avoid honest citizens and Aurors might feel safe – Diagon Alley. She needed to pass this information along.

"Is your senior secretary Martin Entwhistle at work this evening, Prime Minister?" she asked.

The Prime Minister audibly gulped. Another one of them! Why was it that all his very best assistants were planted here by the wizards? "Ah, yes, hmmm, another of yours, then? One of my very best assistants, handles the work of three." Almost to himself, he added "I should have known he'd be a wizard."

Amelia bit back a smile as Entwhistle was summoned. He did a perfect double-take seeing his real boss chatting with his assigned boss, not entirely sure how to react. Amelia stood to speak to Entwhistle, making it clear that his Auror assignment now took precedence over his role in the Prime Minister's office.

"Mr. Entwhistle, in light of the events of this evening, I paid a long-overdue call on the Prime Minister. It turns out that Cornelius Fudge has been here, earlier this evening, to exhort the muggles to attack Hogwarts Castle because, as Cornelius explained it, Harry Potter is set on taking over the world."

Entwhistle's reaction to this news made it abundantly clear that he was scandalized at Fudge's audacity, and by his gross mischaracterization of Harry Potter. "Attack a school? Is that what you're planning to do?" he blurted out to the Prime Minister.

"A school? No, a stronghold, a castle, that's what Fudge told me," the Prime Minister protested in his defense.

Amelia stepped in, as Entwhistle seemed to be getting quite angry at this news. "Actually, Mr. Prime Minister, Hogwarts Castle is home to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Classes aren't in session yet, but many students and families spent the summer there, given the state of things. It is well protected, however. I fear, Mr. Prime Minister, that your attempts to attack the school would likely result in harm to your people, not us. The castle is protected by wards, forces that repel any attempts to attack it. People would be prevented from getting close, as would any vehicles."

The Minister of Magic looked from the Prime Minster to Entwhistle. "If I may offer a suggestion? I need to ask Mr. Entwhistle to connect with my team at the Ministry, to alert them to Fudge's appearance. Most likely, he is using a floo from one of the dives on Diagon Alley. No one there ever sees anything, and they would never cooperate with an Auror. But he's making a move, so we have a chance to return him to custody." She pointed to the fireplace in the Prime Minister's office, and without hesitation, the young man strode over to it, extracted some powder from a pocket, and disappeared into those strange green flames.

"And would you like to pay a visit to Hogwarts yourself, Prime Minister? It's actually very close to Balmoral Castle, where I understand you have an appointment tomorrow. You can accompany me via portkey – quite safe, I assure you." She saw the Prime Minister eyeing the fireplace, and added "Actually, using the floo is rather difficult for muggles, non-magical folk like yourself. A portkey is safer and more comfortable. I will return you here in an hour or so, if you remain unconvinced of the folly of the course of action you are planning."

She used the floo to firecall to Albus Dumbledore's office back at Hogwarts to inform him that she'd be arriving with the Prime Minister. She produced a small metal object that looked like an old-fashioned bottle cap, and instructed the Prime Minister to touch it. Looking very suspicious, but ultimately convinced that something as small as a little bottle cap could not be dangerous, he complied with the request. Everything went dark, or fuzzy, and he felt terribly squeezed.

And as suddenly as it began, it was over.

He found himself standing in a room unlike any he'd seen before. The walls were stone, and it looked like leaded glass in the windows. Actually, he'd gone on a school visit to some old ruined castles years ago, and it occurred to him that a few of them might have looked like this room back when those old castles were standing and occupied. He was standing in front of an old man in a long, brightly colored robe, with a long white beard and an odd cap on his head.

He most definitely was not in London anymore. The old man smiled genially at him, looking like an old grandfather greeting a favored grandchild. He didn't know what to think.

"Ah, Prime Minister! Welcome to Hogwarts! We've never had a visit from a Prime Minister before, so this is very exciting for us all. Thank you, Minister Bones, for arranging this visit," the old man said, as he approached them. He moved with surprising agility for such an obviously old man, and reached out to shake the Prime Minister's hand in greeting.

Amelia stepped in to make the introductions, presenting the Prime Minister to Albus, giving all of his numerous titles in the wizarding world. He shook his head at the extended recitation of his honors and awards.

"Far too much detail, Amelia! Prime Minister, the most significant title of all those our Minister of Magic has just recited is that of Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We're in the Headmaster's Office here in Hogwarts Castle. I'd be happy to show you about a bit. I'd like you to become acquainted with who we are, so you can understand that wizards and witches are people, just like you."

The Prime Minister had glanced at the walls, covered as they were with obviously old oil paintings. He thought his eyes were playing a trick, as several of the paintings seemed to move. He was nonplussed when Headmaster Dumbledore actually introduced him to several of the portraits, the occupants of which greeted him back.

The Prime Minister was escorted downstairs to the Great Hall, encountering more moving and speaking portraits, and several ghosts. Like his monarch before him, he took it in stride, returning greetings from all quarters, human or . . . whatever.

The Great Hall was occupied after dinner by students working on their summer essays and families visiting among themselves before taking the little ones to their tents to sleep. It wasn't nearly as raucous as it was a few hours earlier, when dinner was served, but there were still quite a few people lingering there.

And that was the point. They were people, just like the people back in London. Students, children clearly too young to attend school, young women who were obviously the mothers of those young children, and others who seemed to be family groups. People.

Albus suggested a quick walk around the lawn, as a few lumos charms created enough light for a late pick-up Quidditch game. The Prime Minister was amazed to see people actually flying broomsticks, and able to do so with such skill that they were playing a most intricate game up there.

The tour ended in the Ministry of Magic Annex in a room off the entryway, where Harry and Severus had come to meet the Prime Minister. Albus had noted that the man was a bit winded from just walking down from the tower, and decided that they would not ask him to walk up there later.

The Prime Minister was taken aback by the scowling face and black, black eyes of the tall man, dressed all in black robes, he encountered as he walked into the reception room. The man was terrifying, although he was greeted quite cordially by his escorts. He recognized Harry Potter from the taped messages he'd seen, a smallish, wiry young man, with green eyes far too old to belong to someone so young. He was startled to see the obviously easy interaction between the severe man and Harry, and was not entirely sure what to make of the explanation in the introductions he received, that Severus Snape was Harry Potter's bondmate. It did not seem polite to ask, so the Prime Minister followed his good political instincts and filed that away as something to learn at a later date.

Harry provided a bit of background as to how the Ministry of Magic happened to have an annex office in the school – it was all because of him and his recently conferred title of king. "While the title itself is without political influence or boundaries, I needed help managing all the people who wanted to contact me. I asked the Ministry to help, as I'm British, of course, and they established this office for our mutual convenience."

Minister Bones chimed in, suspecting that it was very important to make it clear that this connection between the Ministry and Hogwarts did not in any way make Hogwarts a governmental installation. "The school and the Ministry have always taken great pains to be very clear that they are totally separate institutions. When Mr. Potter was called as king, the flood of letters and efforts to contact him was more than Hogwarts could manage. We agreed, at the Headmaster's invitation, to establish this Annex to support Mr. Potter."

Harry continued. "And this is a school, as I'm sure you've seen, first and foremost. Normally, it would be a few days yet until the students would return, but because of all that's been going on, many spent the summer here. We also have invited families who felt that they wanted the safety and security of the castle to come here to live, and others who, for various reasons, wanted to be here. Your princes lived here during the time that everyone was asleep, since they were among the ones I had woken up, which is how I came to meet them."

Several tumblers of Rosmerta's finest mead appeared on a side table (their arrival an event that made the Prime Minister actually jump) and as they sipped, the group had a casual conversation. The Prime Minister was most interested in the fact that Harry had grown up in Little Whinging – he'd gone to school with someone from that town – and in how he became king, if not through heredity.

Albus and Amelia were courteous and attentive to their guest, hoping as they were to enable him to conclude that it was a terrible mistake to pursue his plan to attack the school. Even Severus held his usually acid tongue, not quite managing attentiveness but at least not projecting annoyance. Harry was the one who carried the day, with his genuineness and straightforward manner.

It was slightly more than two hours before the Minister produced another odd little bottle cap and offered it to the Prime Minister. "When you say the words "Downing Street" this portkey will take you there. Just like before, you'll be fine."

The Prime Minister was suddenly standing in his office, wondering if he'd had a dream, or what on earth had just happened. He looked down at the bottle cap in his hand, certainly not something from any beverage he'd ever consumed. No, that had been real.

He sat heavily in his leather chair, and summoned one of his assistant into the office. He'd almost attacked a school, of all things! He had to make sure those plans were called off immediately.


	47. Ch 124 Delaying the Inevitable

Chapter 124 – Delaying the Inevitable

Martin Entwhistle led a small group consisting of a senior Auror and others from the Ministry of Magic back to the empty Prime Minister's office via the floo. Auror training included an introduction to the muggle world, so while the senior Auror in his wizard robes looked out of place in the very muggle room, he was generally familiar with the things he saw. However, the wizard technicians in particular were seeing muggle technology they'd never encountered before. Consequently, several minutes were lost as they marveled over the computer screen perched near the desk, and the telephone with all its buttons.

"Don't touch anything," Entwhistle cautioned in a loud whisper, emboldened to speak up even to a more senior ministry worker when the wizard who was along to place a tracer on the floo sat in the Prime Minister's chair and moved to tinker with the computer keyboard. "Muggles have their own security procedures, lots of them connected to the things on the desk there. We don't want the people working in the outside office to come running in here while we're addressing the floo."

Disappointed, the wizard stood and joined his colleagues huddled around the fireplace from which they'd just exited. The senior Auror nodded approvingly at Entwhistle – it was always good to see a young Auror keep the mission's objective clearly in mind and not hesitate to speak out.

Wands were drawn and slashing through the air as the team went to work. Blue light filled the office as someone first placed a block on the floo to restrict its connection only to the floo in the Minister's office at the Ministry. Green light followed as a colleague created a tracer that would alert the Aurors to any attempt to access the Prime Minister's office from any other floo and trace the location from which the attempt was made.

When all were satisfied that the floo was now protected against unauthorized visits to the Prime Minister by anyone not dispatched from the Ministry of Magic itself, the team took a final look at the muggle curiosities. The wizard who'd been shooed out of the Prime Minister's chair was a bit reluctant to wander, but the others in the group inspected the pictures and paintings on the wall.

"None of them move!" someone whispered.

"Muggle paintings and photographs don't move. They have moving pictures but they need their muggle technology to make them move. The ones that hang on the walls like this are still," the senior Auror explained. He was as fascinated as the others by the immobile images, but at least he'd been briefed on this.

Finally, to Entwhistle's great relief, the little group returned to the fireplace. With nods to their junior member who seemed quite at ease in this strange environment, they each fished a handful of powder from a pocket of their robes, and stepped into the floo to go back to the Ministry of Magic. When the last of them had vanished in the swoosh of green flames, the young man spelled his robes back to a muggle suit, and checked that all traces of his fellow Ministry colleagues had left with them. When he was satisfied that there was no evidence of the visit that had just occurred, he let himself out of the office and returned to his desk, blending into the flurry of activity in the outer office.

The muggle staff was very busy, whispering urgently among themselves, all looking very uneasy about the task to which they'd been set, organizing the military fo an assault on an ancient castle in a remote section of Scotland. Martin hoped, to the very bottom of his heart, that Harry Potter and Professor Dumbledore were able to sway the Prime Minister. He could not imagine that the muggles would attack Hogwarts!

About a half an hour after Martin had let himself out of the Prime Minister's office, a discreet light on his desk lit up. The Prime Minister was back, and summoning his Senior Assistant. With a deep breath, and a silent prayer that the visit to Hogwarts had its desired outcome, Entwhistle stood, gathered a pad and pen, and reentered the office.

"Sir?" he inquired as he opened the door.

"A most shocking and interesting evening, Mr. Entwhistle. Close the door, and have a seat," the Prime Minister replied, pointing to one of the seats across his vast desk.

Entwhistle was frequently in that seat, taking instructions for any number of projects that he handled, but this particular interview was like none he'd ever had before.

"I still can't believe what I just saw. If it wasn't for this," the Prime Minister said, holding up a butterbeer bottlecap in a slightly shaking hand, "I'm not sure I'd believe that I hadn't overindulged in the wine at that infernal dinner. Knowing that magic exists is one thing; seeing it in person is something else. Did you attend school at Hogwarts, Mr. Entwhistle?" he asked, slightly redirecting his thoughts.

"Yes, sir. I started there when I was eleven, that's when you can first attend. I was there for seven years. It's quite a place, isn't it?" the younger man replied.

The Prime Minister shook his head. "Amazing. I met a few ghosts. I saw staircases moving, and oil paintings spoke to me. I saw people flying in the air on brooms. It wasn't a trick, was it?"

"No, sir. It's magic, and not even the most of it," his assistant answered. "The castle has as much magic in it as any building in Britain, probably even more than the Ministry of Magic itself. The castle has been the home of the Hogwarts School for over a thousand years, so it's had longer to soak it all in. All the people up there are witches and wizards – the headmaster, the professors, the students. Did you meet Professor Dumbledore? And Harry Potter?"

"Yes, I did. The headmaster – well, I've never in all my years encountered anyone quite like him. And young Potter – he's just like my nephew Stephen. Same age, I imagine. Same shaggy hair, same sweater and jeans and trainers. He said he grew up in Little Whinging – a friend of mine from school was from there."

Entwhistle suspected that the visit had been a success; he could not image them having this conversation if the plans to attack the school were still on. He wasn't entirely sure how a Senior Assistant to the Prime Minister was expected to handle this, but clearly at this point, the Prime Minister knew that he had another employer and accountabilities.

"Sir, are we still preparing to attack Hogwarts? Or have you concluded that the people in the school are not our enemies?" he asked very quietly.

The Prime Minister took a deep breath. "No, we will not be attacking the castle. I had no idea it was really a school. I remember thinking, as Fudge was sitting here speaking to me, that I would not believe the perfidy of magical people if I wasn't hearing it from the man I knew was their Minister. Now I have learned that I should have trusted my instincts and not believed it, as Fudge isn't the Minister any longer. Please arrange a call with the leaders of the Army and Navy in five minutes so I can call off this attack."

Almost by accident, the Prime Minister's eyes gazed over at the massive fireplace that dominated one wall of the room of his office. That triggered a very uncomfortable thought. "I'm safe from Fudge in here, am I not? Can he just come back here through the fireplace again?"

Entwhistle had already gathered his papers and stood to return to his desk outside. "No, sir, he will not be able to enter your office from the floo, that is, the fireplace. We've installed some charms that restrict this fireplace's connections to the Minister of Magic's office, no one else can access this office through the floo network. We've also put some tracers on your fireplace – if Fudge or anyone else tries to access your office, we'll know. We ought to be able to determine where he came from on his way here and where he went once he could not get in."

Almost as if on cue, there was a swooshing noise from the fireplace. Instead of the usual green flames that signaled the floo in operation, the flames were bright orange. The Prime Minister recoiled, fear clear on his face.

Entwhistle stepped closer to the fireplace, putting himself between the Prime Minister's desk and the fireplace. "The orange flame indicates that someone is trying to use the floo to come here from a floo connection that's not the Minister of Magic's office – someone arriving from her office will still arrive with green flames."

He extracted his wand from its holster on his arm, knowing in his mind that the charms and tracers on this floo will absolutely prevent anyone from actually entering the Prime Minister's office from the floo, but feeling oh-so-much safer with his wand handy. The Prime Minister saw the wand, and seemed comforted himself knowing that an armed wizard was there to defend him.

After just a moment, Fudge's face appeared briefly in the fireplace. It was interesting to watch him react to the fact that his attempt to enter the Prime Minister's office was being blocked by the charm just applied by the Ministry of Magic. He was initially perplexed, assuming from his earlier arrivals that this was a completely open floo.

Then he spotted Entwhistle. While the young man looked just like any of the dozens of functionaries who surrounded the Prime Minister, the fact that this young man was so clearly focused on the fireplace, and of course that he had a wand in his hand in a classic defensive pose, made it clear – this was a wizard, probably an Auror. Suddenly, Fudge understood that his ruse had been exposed, and his face distorted in rage.

He could not communicate with the occupants of the Prime Minister's office – that was blocked – but it was clear that he was angry and yelling as his face faded back into the orange flames, and they flickered out.

"The floo wouldn't let him in. We'll hope the Ministry of Magic was able to trace him to someplace and capture him. Let me get your call with the military leaders arranged, sir. That really can't wait," Entwhistle said as he redeposited his wand into its holster and let himself out of the office.

For his part, Cornelius could not believe he'd gotten so close to having the muggles attack Hogwarts, and could not fathom the bad fortune that caused his plan to unravel at this time.

He'd used the floo in a less crowded pub off of Knockturn Alley, down one of the numerous tiny alleys that crisscrossed the magical community in an unplottable part of London itself. This place looked as shady as its larger cousins on Knockturn Alley itself, but its location apparently assured that it drew a much smaller number of the bottom-dwellers of the wizarding world, and at least none Fudge recognized as felons on the lam from the Aurors.

Fudge never expected to be back there so quickly. He felt the wards blocking the floo at Downing Street as soon as he neared it, and was surprised at the strength by which he was not just prevented from stepping though, but actively repelled and sent back to his point of origin. That made him suspect that someone had done something more than just block the floo – it was entirely possible, maybe probable, that there was a tracer in place.

Better safe than sorry. As soon as Fudge was back in the fireplace at the seedy little pub, he apparated. Who knew how quickly the Ministry could trace him? Maybe that wizened old man tending bar here was actually a 30-year old Auror just waiting to pounce on him. Maybe one of the patrons, especially that old woman he'd seen sitting at a small table with a very large whiskey on it, who kept talking to herself, was really an agent of the Ministry. He wasn't in the mood to find out.

Having to act quickly meant not taking time to think, so Cornelius returned to the public floo near the muggle's Covent Garden, where he'd gone for dinner earlier that evening. It was literally the first one that came to mind. He spelled his robe into a muggle suit to blend in with the milling throng as he sought out a crowded muggle pub. Finding one that was crowded but not too noisy, he selected a table in the rear. Ordering a large whiskey himself, he sighed deeply. He wasn't going to drown his sorrows. He was going to find the next step forward from this minor setback. His goal was not to have the muggles attack Hogwarts, after all. His goal was to be returned to his rightful place as Minister of Magic. There were other paths to that objective. There had to be. He just needed a little time to think and find those other paths.

As Cornelius was sipping his way through his whiskey in the muggle pub, a small team of Aurors had entered the seedy pub off Knockturn Alley, having traced Fudge to this floo connection. The bartender professed to have no memory of anyone coming in to use the floo, and most of the presumed regulars also seemed not to remember anything. The one exception was a rheumy-eyed old woman who clearly remembered a dashing young man who flirted shamelessly with her before excusing himself. She reported he'd gone to the back of the pub, but he'd not returned.

The Aurors really did not believe her, but duty demanded that they check the back of the pub. There was no one back there now, and a careful check of the floo indicated that it had, indeed, been used a couple of times that evening. They assumed the former Minister had used it to travel from here to some other place, but without a tracer, or someone who had heard where he was going, that was a dead end.

They didn't notice, not that it would have helped their cause, that there was a slight trace of the residual magic of apparation in the room with the fireplace. By whatever means, Fudge had eluded capture.

While the Aurors were looking for Cornelius in various magical places to which they thought he might have traveled via floo, the man himself was sipping his second whiskey in a pub in muggle London, hiding in plain sight as it were. And thinking. And reading a muggle newspaper he'd found on a chair in the back of the pub.

There was an article in there about the growing militancy of the anti-magic movement in Britain. While their elected leaders might not be willing to take strong action against witches and wizards, or their strongholds, maybe this lot would be susceptible to his encouragement. He idly scratched his chin as he mulled this over.

He'd been following some of these events from his little flat in Abbeville, but this article suggested that the isolated groups that had been meeting across the country were now beginning to connect with each other. A very positive development, from his perspective. But how could he connect with them? What was the best way to approach one of these grassroots organizations in a way that would enable Cornelius to help shape their direction and strategy? Did he know anyone who might be connected to any of this, or who might know someone involved and who could make an introduction?

Cornelius reflected bitterly for just a second that, back when the world was in its proper order and he was Minister of Magic, this was just the sort of thing that an owl dispatched to Lucius Malfoy could resolve in an instant. He always knew someone, always could make an introduction. No longer. Cornelius was on his own, and he was momentarily very glum.

As he put the newspaper aside and traced his finger over some unevenness in the wood of the table, he could hear a muggle device, the television, chattering on from where the muggles had bolted it to the ceiling over the bar. No one seemed to pay it any attention, making him wonder why they went to the trouble to have one in the first place. His hearing picked up what the muggle speaking through the device was saying – something about a political event going on in Surrey.

Surrey. He'd heard of Surrey before. Why?

It did not come to him immediately, but a few seconds later, Cornelius' entire face brightened. He remembered why he'd heard of Surrey.

Over a year ago, one of his own highly-confidential sources had approached him about some records she'd located in the muggle primary school to which Harry Potter had gone before he was old enough to attend Hogwarts. What caught the source's attention was the fact that some residual magic was attached to one of the files. Further inspection revealed that these records reported that the savior of the Light, Harry Potter, had disclosed to a school nurse that his uncle had smacked him, by way of explaining the broken nose and black eye he sported to school that morning.

It took just a little more checking of files in that school to determine that the boy often arrived at school battered and bruised, but none of the injuries – which included things that looked like broken bones as well as significant soft tissue injuries - lasted more than a day or two. Notes indicated that the school authorities had begun to agree that Potter was exactly what the files recorded that his relatives said he was: an attention-seeking, malingering, lying, no-good troublemaker. No one at the school realized that Harry had magic to help him heal, explaining his remarkable and speedy recoveries.

After the first year at school, the boy no longer mentioned his relatives when any concern was expressed about an injury he sported. He fell down a flight of stairs, or slipped on some leaves on the sidewalk. Some of this might well have been the boy's own efforts at self-preservation at home, but no muggle would ever see a pattern. Magic confunded them whenever they looked at Harry's records. That magic was what drew Cornelius's source's attention, but once she saw the files, she realized that the old confundus charm had become weak and was easily overcome.

Harry Potter's relatives lived in Surrey, in the town of Little Whinging. Cornelius remembered now – Vernon and Petunia Dursley were the names of the uncle and aunt who raised him. Cornelius wasn't entirely certain about the aunt's true feelings – her husband might just as easily have bullied her as he did the boy. Probably best to steer clear of her, just in case.

But there was no question about the uncle. Vernon was abusive to the boy, sufficiently so that Cornelius was confident of his ability to have the man disqualified as a suitable guardian to a magical child, which paved the way to his own plan to adopt Harry Potter. It was very probable, from what Cornelius' sources learned, that the man hated magic at least as much as he hated Harry. If the past was any indication of what was likely to be the current state of things, Harry's uncle either knew of, or was active in, one of those anti-magic groups. Vernon Dursley. He'd have to look the gentleman up.

A man with a much lighter step and happier disposition than he'd had when he arrived left the pub a short while later. The bartender no doubt attributed it to the effect of a couple of glasses of his finest whiskey, but that had nothing to do with this. Cornelius, once again, had a plan. He'd return to Abbeville tonight and begin to fine-tune it. He'd be back.

X X X X X X X X X X

Back in Hogwarts, the Headmaster had beamed at Harry and Severus after they bid the Minister of Magic and Prime Minister good evening.

"I think that went very well indeed, my boys! Thank you, Kingsley, for the use of your office. I didn't think our guest could manage the climb back to my office."

"The Prime Minister did, indeed seem a bit short of breath by the time you and he arrived here," Severus agreed. "Is he well?"

Harry was perched on the arm of the chair in which Severus was now sitting, and he smiled at his bondmate, and then at the others. "I think he's a typical muggle – not in great physical condition, and he's getting on in years, for a muggle. They aren't used to all the stairs here, in particular. The muggles have escalators, moving stairs, or elevators. They would never live in a place like this if they had to walk up and down all day."

Albus perked up at the mention of moving stairs. "Really, Harry – the moving staircases here always astonish our guests who are new to magic, muggle-born first years, or the people we had staying here this summer. It never occurred to me that they have moving stairs, too, the way they react!"

Harry chuckled. "No, their moving stairs are very different from what we have here. They stand on one step and it moves them up to the top or bottom of the staircase. The staircase itself stays in one place and the steps all move together in one direction. The muggles don't have anything where staircases themselves shift around like we have."

Both Kingsley and Severus watched this exchange with interest. They each had enough contact with the muggle world to have had experience with escalators, and were a bit surprised at this evidence of just how little experience the Headmaster had with it.

The conversation about out-of-shape muggles and moving stairs was just a diversion from the undercurrent of worry shared by all the wizards in the room: had they really persuaded the muggle Prime Minister to call off the troops planning to attack Hogwarts? Their physical safety in the castle wasn't an issue, but this represented such a massive step backwards, back to days when wizards weren't safe mingling with muggles because suspicions and hostilities were such an ever-present risk.

Harry might have once assumed that magical people could apparate away from risk, or take port keys, or cast disillusionment charms. But he'd learned this past year how many magical people could actually not do any of those things. They could do some magic, maybe just enough to make some aspect of their lives easier. But in doing whatever magic they could do, they revealed themselves to others as having some magic. Their very limited magical strength left them hugely vulnerable to attack by muggles, because most of them could not actually protect themselves.

The tension was broken when a parchment popped onto Kingsley's desk.

Auror Entwhistle had arranged for the call among the Prime Minister and the heads of his Army and Navy, and confirmed that the order had been given to stand down. Then he cancelled the request for a meeting with the Queen at Balmoral the next day, and only then was he completely confident that the battle plans were scuttled. He so advised the Ministry in a carefully penned note on a scrap of muggle paper. He folded his note into a small pouch into which he placed a butterbeer cap. Sliding his arm over the note, he slid his wand out just enough to touch the paper over the butterbeer cap, activating the portkey. The note disappeared from his desk, and copies appeared seconds later on the Minister's desk, and at Kingsley's office.

Kingsley quickly unfolded the cheap muggle paper, and smiled as he read aloud, "The muggle plans to attack Hogwarts have been cancelled."

Harry sagged perceptibly, and Severus eyed him with concern, until he realized that it was quite late, probably after midnight. It had been a horrifically long day, it seemed, with tremendous tension these last few hours. But now they had the relief of a good outcome.

"Headmaster, Shacklebolt, if you'll excuse us, it's been a long day," Severus said as he stood and put a protective arm around Harry's shoulders, helping him up from his perch on the arm of the chair. "Harry, you look exhausted. I'll not be carrying you back down to the dungeons, so it's best we proceed there now while you are still able to make it under your own power."

Harry smiled wanly at Severus, thankful for the attempt at humor and for the excuse to leave Kingsley's office. He's apparently been operating on adrenaline, and with the welcome news that the plans for attack were off, a very profound weariness overtook him. He waved his goodbye to the two older men as his bondmate gently guided him out of the door, and down the long stairway to their home in the dungeons.

X X X X X X X X X X

In Abbeville, Cornelius Fudge was now experiencing his own surge of adrenaline, and rather than even attempt to sleep, he'd pulled out the box that contained every scrap of parchment he had assembled that provided any information about Harry Potter's family from Surrey. He'd had quite a bit of research done about the family last year, in particular, when he wanted an excuse to adopt Harry and get him away from Dumbledore's influence, which of course all went to naught when the old codger got him married off the Severus Snape of all people right before he came to claim the boy himself. Aside from accepting the assurances of his people that he had grounds to disqualify the family and adopt Harry himself, Cornelius had never actually bothered to read the reports and documents himself. He was now eternally grateful to whatever drove him to collect all this information together and deposit the box of it here in Abbeville.

Cornelius had found it rather difficult to adjust to some of the "conveniences" of muggle life when he took up residence in his Abbeville flat. He was especially uncomfortable with the way they lit their rooms after dark. He'd always used candles, and had found the unnaturally bright lights those glass bulbs threw off very uncomfortable. Tonight, the brightness enabled him to work for many hours into the night, capturing every little detail he could about this man in Surrey who he hoped would be his entrée to the growing anti-wizard movement in Britain.

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry was quietly amazed how calm the world was on a day that could have featured total havoc. He'd awoken at his usual time the next morning, and joined Severus in a companionable walk to the Great Hall, taking a seat with his friends at the Gryffindor table for breakfast. No sounds of battle, no fears of a battle soon to be waged. Even the ravens were quiet today.

Everything was so . . so normal! Granted a slightly new normal, in that Draco was sitting today with them, but that had gone on at times almost all last year. Hermione had a stack of parchment spread on the table near her plate, and was writing or editing something or other, Ron was working his way through a plate filled to the brim, and actually overflowing in a few places, with toast and eggs and meat and potatoes. Seamus was regaling everyone with a story about some escapade from his past, apparently involving the ingestion of way too much liquor, and the others were listening raptly and laughing frequently.

Neville deflated most of the enthusiastic chatter when he observed into a lull in the conversations as the meal was winding down, "Today's the day we'd've been taking the Hogwarts Express back to the castle, you know. Hard to believe that summer's over already."

Ron's face fell as he finished up the plate of food before him; his appetite wasn't impacted by the reminder, but his spirits clearly were. The others were a bit more reflective about this. They'd been here all summer, the ones at breakfast this morning, and they'd been hounded by Hermione and a few of the other rising seventh years to get their summer essays finished, so the start of classes would not represent a totally new way to spend their days. But, still . . .

Seamus perked up at the news. "So, who do we have coming back?" he asked. Ever the social creature, this meant that a few of his missing friends would soon be joining him. His card game improved when he didn't play constantly against the same people, as well.

Draco rubbed his chin as he considered the matter. "Actually, it seemed like most of Gryffindor was here all summer." As he looked around the group of almost-seventh years with whom he was sitting, he figured this group was complete right now. No one was missing. "I think that there are quite a few Ravenclaws coming in, assuming of course that they are returning. A few Hufflepuffs, not too many from our year. And Slytherins. Hard to tell if the ones who left will be back at all."

There was a flatness in Draco's voice with that last statement. It was definitely possible that many of the Slytherins who left last year would be supporting Voldemort; their families were certainly among his most ardent adherents. Would he have to face them in any battles? Kill them, even? At least a few of them he regarded as friends, not just family allies. Draco regretted that they'd chosen poorly. He had grown ever more confident over the last few months that he'd sided with the winning side in aligning with Potter.

Hermione sensed the sadness threatening to overtake the group, and interceded.

"We've all completed our summer assignments, although I still need to review Neville's charms essay," she began, as Neville blushed slightly. "We've got one final day to enjoy the castle, and it looks like a beautiful day. If things were normal, we'd be stuck on the train for hours, so take advantage. Then we have the feast to look forward to tonight."

Before everyone could leave, Ginny Weasley shared something she'd overheard from a friend in Ravenclaw. "I don't think they are using the train this year. Everyone is coming in by portkey. The Ministry felt it could not guarantee the safety of the train moving through open areas as it does."

That brought Harry back a bit, remembering his own encounter with dementors a few years ago on the train. If the Ministry was willing to allow the train to run that year, with dementors on the loose, how must things be now? Of course, that was the Ministry under Cornelius Fudge, and as of yesterday, it was actually possible that a full-blown battle would be raging out on the lawn, at least past the wards. Harry had to agree with the Ministry on this – better safe than sorry. He felt a pang of pity for muggle-born first-years. The train was certainly less frightening than taking a portkey, and they'd miss out on that wonderful moment when they'd first see the castle looming over the lake as they took boats from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts. He stood and joined the others as the filed out of the Great Hall to enjoy their last day of freedom at Hogwarts.

Up at the Head Table, Albus had shared the news of the altered arrival plans with his staff, none of whom looked too happy at the change of plans.

"But, Headmaster, most people, children in particular, become violently nauseous the first time they use a portkey. It's almost as bad as side-along apparition, for Merlin's sake," Madam Pomfrey scolded. She looked imploringly at Severus. "We've nowhere near the quantity of anti-nausea potion we'll be needing today."

Severus scowled. His last day of freedom (professors looked at this in a surprisingly similar manner to their students), and he'd planned to do some more testing of materials from the Winter Lands. Who knew when he'd next have the chance to do that? Apparently, he wasn't going to have that chance today. With his scowl firmly fixed on his face, he growled "At least that potion brews up quickly. I should be able to provide adequate doses by mid afternoon."

That earned him a twinkling smile from Albus and a squeeze to the arm from Poppy. He sulked off, just as the students were tripping over themselves to get outside on their last day of freedom.

X X X X X X X X X X

In Abbeville, Cornelius had fallen asleep just as the sun crept over the horizon. He'd spent the entire night reading all the information his various sources had pulled together about this Vernon Dursley.

Quite a despicable individual. He'd actually spent a moment wondering why on earth Dumbledore had ever considered allowing such awful people to assume the guardianship of his precious prince. Even if he'd not been able to predict the man's less attractive tendencies in advance, he must have known what was going on once the boy came to Hogwarts, and yet he returned him to that house, year after year. There must be something more to this.

It wasn't relevant to Cornelius' objective of recovering his position at the Ministry of Magic, so he wasted just that moment on the matter. He was rather surprised with the amount of information he'd found in a file ostensibly about the man and his wife in their role as guardians, about the man's business.

Cornelius had an address, in the same village as the home, but clearly an office. He knew the name of the firm, and had a general idea about what they did. He had a vague sense of what the man did for the firm. He had the name of the businessmen's club to which the man belonged, and where he assumed he took his lunch. He even had the name of the man's favored haberdashery.

But Cornelius had been in the working world long enough to know that he had truly hit the jackpot when he found the name of the man's assistant. Some of Cornelius' most spectacular accomplishments in his brief business career, and in his later and much longer political career were achieved through the careful cultivation of assistants and secretaries, the people who controlled access to the persons he needed to see. Of course, a little Imperius spell now and then dealt with the more difficult ones, but it was almost a game for Cornelius to see how far his charm could get him. He needed to use Imperius far less than might have been expected to still enjoy exactly the access, or the information, he required.

Millicent Enderlee was Cornelius' kind of lady. She wasn't going to stand a chance.


	48. Ch 125 The First Wave Forms

Chapter 125 – The First Wave Forms

The first month of classes flew by. As much fun as most of the students had with the unusual experience of staying at Hogwarts over the summer, the return to the familiar routine of classes, house rivalries, and Quidditch tryouts, among other things, was more welcome than most students would have guessed, even if it did include attending classes and doing assignments.

Harry settled into a routine that was not too dissimilar to the way the prior school year ended. He was enjoying his classes, even Potions, now that most of the awkwardness surrounding his relationship with the Professor was no longer an issue. There were no comments about his status as Professor Snape's bondmate, especially now that Draco was no longer leading the Slytherins in tormenting and baiting Gryffindors.

Ron had suggested that this new acceptance might more directly be attributed to Harry's status as King of the Wizarding World. Harry was reasonably sure that there was no venom behind that observation, but with Ron, there was always a thread of jealousy waiting to trip you up. He just shrugged at the observation and changed the subject, hoping against hope that it wasn't true, anyway.

Harry privately concluded that the best part of settling into a routine this year was Severus' decision that it was time for him and Harry to resume their fencing lessons. Harry had enjoyed them last year – they seemed like good exercise, and there was a sort of elegant dash to the whole thing. He enjoyed the close attention Severus always paid to him during their lessons, as well. It was almost like dancing, but this year with a greater urgency.

Severus wasn't entirely sure that he understood what made him conclude that he must begin these lessons again. His initial interest in teaching Harry how to duel was spurred by his own selfish desire to have some reason to touch the young man. Now, they not only slept in the same bed, but were sharing an active sexual relationship that involved frequent and significantly more intimate touching than was part of a fencing lesson. But, for some reason, he felt very compelled to resume the lessons.

Something that was just between the two of them came to more public attention a couple of weeks into the school year. Hermione had tried to schedule a study session for Thursday afternoons, and was surprised that Harry said he wasn't available. She confronted him as the group at the Gryffindor table was finishing supper one evening.

"There are no classes that afternoon, and Quidditch practice won't begin for another couple of weeks, Harry. This is a good chance to get ahead on some of the work in a couple of classes, and it's really important for you to make the time for this," she nagged, ever so gently. She'd already browbeaten Ron and the likely members of the Gryffindor House Team to participate, and Draco had joined in with a few Slytherins, so Harry's nonparticipation was a thorn in her side.

"I'm not skiving off, Mione. Really. Severus has scheduled my fencing lessons at that time. He feels this is something I need to learn, and that's when he has an opening in his schedule. We agreed that we would have those lessons then."

Harry wasn't prepared for the very negative reaction that statement got.

"Turning you into quite the Slytherin, isn't he" Ron observed with a look of distaste on his face, although he added "No offense" when he realized that Draco was sitting next to him. Neville didn't say anything, but the expression on his face suggested he agreed with Ron.

Hermione saw the hurt in Harry's eyes, although he'd been careful to keep any reaction from his face. She was puzzled, as she suspected they all were, with why the Professor thought Harry needed to learn to fence. Fencing, dueling, was a blood sport, a vestige of the old pure-blood culture, all very un-Harry-like, she would have thought. But unlike Ron, she wasn't going to denigrate the whole thing with a crack about turning Harry into a Slytherin. There must be some reason Harry was learning to fence.

"Well, I suppose the activity is good exercise," Hermione offered tentatively. "Probably improves posture, agility, things like that."

Draco stepped in, more to answer Ron's slur at Slytherin than to defend Harry, but he had to agree with Hermione. "No one fences the way they once did. Go back twenty, thirty years or more, fencing and dueling were huge. Every House at Hogwarts had a dueling club, and almost every pure blood who came here had learned how to fence at home. Hasn't been that way in years because no one is interested anymore. The people I know who do take fencing lessons, or who practice regularly, actually do it for the exercise. It's really quite a demanding sport, mentally as well as physically."

Draco was the only one at the table who'd had any real experience with fencing, as he'd been taking private lessons at home since he was five. He even took lessons after he'd started at Hogwarts, when he was home for the summers. He was rather confident that his observation that fencing involved mental effort effectively assured that none of the others were ever going to be anxious to take it up. Ron gave Draco a funny look and stood up to get back to his common room. Neville, who'd had a fencing lesson or two as a child and had no aptitude at all for the sport, nodded at Draco and walked off with Ron.

Harry smiled at Hermione and Draco. "Thanks for that. Sorry about your study group, Mione, but I promised Severus. At least you know that I'm improving my concentration and posture while I'm working on my fencing."

These Thursday afternoon sessions required more concentration and stamina than Harry remembered these lessons requiring last year.

Severus was more driven than usual, Harry had thought, as their first hour of practice came to an end several weeks ago. Harry had always enjoyed the process of having his body positioned just so, and the nearness of Severus as he demonstrated exactly how each specific move was to be made. That hadn't changed, but it was no longer the totally sensuous experience it had been. It seemed to really matter to Severus if anything was amiss, and it hadn't been that way before. Actually, Harry realized with a rush of embarrassment, the roughness and urgency of the lesson was shockingly arousing to him.

As he sipped a glass of pumpkin juice and waited to catch his breath that afternoon (while willing the sign of his arousal to soften), Harry looked closely at Severus' face, fearful that the change in tone of this practice session was a sign of some bigger or more profound change in their relationship. Nothing about Severus' demeanor suggested that anything was wrong, and even his face, and those extraordinary eyes, gave nothing away. Severus noticed the scrutiny, and with just an elegant raising of his eyebrow, invited Harry to explain.

"Um, uh . . . Severus, is something wrong? Are you upset with me?" Harry ventured.

Severus seemed genuinely perplexed by the question. "Why in Merlin's name do you think that?" was all he could offer in response.

"I loved the practice session, don't get me wrong, but this one was different from what we were doing last year. I don't know – it's hard to put a finger on, but . . . just different." Harry wasn't particularly proud of that explanation, and half expected a withering comeback from his bondmate, either because of the inarticulate explanation for his concern, or because the older man somehow recognized the signs of Harry's embarrassing erection.

"No, nothing is different. Of course, now that you've mastered some of the basics, we're working on refining and perfecting your approach. Perhaps that feels more demanding?" was Severus' response.

In his own mind, Severus was actually startled that Harry had detected the difference in the approach from the year before. He had no explanation, but he felt an urgency himself as they fenced. He'd never imagined that Harry would notice it too.

The ensuing Thursday afternoon sessions were repeats of that first one, each an energetic, spirited and very physical workout that left both men sweaty and gasping for breath.

They usually worked out in rooms specially fortified by the castle for dueling, but one afternoon, they arrived to find Professors Sinistra and Flitwick in the middle of a dueling session of their own. Severus scowled, but when two such expert fencers were dueling, neither was going to even notice that others had joined them. He was about to suggest that he and Harry should select another time to return, when Harry offered an alternative.

"Let's see if the Room of Requirement is available, Severus, rather than give up the hour we've both set aside for our practice," he suggested, very sensibly.

Severus nodded his agreement, and with one final scowl over his shoulder at the combatants making use of the practice room, he followed Harry off to the corridor from which one could access the Room of Requirement.

They were in luck. After Harry passed the blank wall three times, a door appeared, and as they walked through, a space ideally configured for dueling practice appeared before them. They made good use of the space, too, and had a particularly aggressive and grueling session that afternoon.

As Harry sipped a glass of pumpkin juice when the session was over, he was startled, and then embarrassed to see a comfortable-looking daybed appear off in the corner of the room. He'd never stopped ending these new and improved lessons with a raging erection, and today was no exception. The room sensed that, and was offering a gentle suggestion as to what Harry needed to deal with his problem.

Unrealized by Harry was that Severus had experienced the same arousal as he did from the rough intimacy of their fencing practice, and Severus blanched when he saw the daybed, mortified that Harry would suspect the reason for its appearance.

Harry's Gryffindor nature carried the day. While Severus was mentally running through options to deflect attention to his own base desires that, he was sure, had no doubt prompted the appearance of the daybed, Harry recognized its appearance as the gift that it was, and he took action. He stood up and gently but firmly took Severus by the arm and propelled the larger man toward the daybed.

"I still seem to have some energy to burn off, Severus. We won't be bothered while we're in the Room of Requirement, and we can be a bit late getting ready for supper," he said as he pushed Severus down on the soft surface, and began stripping his own shirt off.

The confusion on Severus' face melted very quickly into lust, to Harry's great relief, and Severus joined Harry in the process of getting out of his shirt. Their mutual resolve was gone by the time each had his shirt off, and which point Harry had launched himself onto Severus and the remainder of their clothes were shed in a squirming wrestling match. The couplings that followed were far rougher than Harry had experienced before; quite possibly, had they engaged in this activity at any point prior to today, he would have been quite distressed by the experience. But he was comfortable with and trusting enough of Severus now to not be worried that he would be injured, and experienced enough himself to be reasonably confident that he would not injure Severus.

The two were soon spent, sweaty and even more exhausted. As they rested to recover their strength, Severus lazily cast a Tempus charm, wandlessly, and they were spurred to dress quickly by the realization that supper was going to begin in mere minutes. Severus helped the process along with a few spells to clean them quickly and get their clothes sorted and straightened, and the two men jogged from the Room of Requirement to their respective entrances to the Great Hall for supper.

If anyone noticed Severus sweeping into the Great Hall to sit at the Head Table moments after the food appeared on the tables at the same time that a slightly flushed Harry nudged his way between Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table, they knew better than to say anything about it.

X X X X X X X X X X

Cornelius Fudge spent a final week using the flat in Abbeville, although he apparated into Britain most days, to use various libraries.

He sorely missed access to Lucius Malfoy's resources, but his rise in the Ministry years ago was based on his own ability to ferret out information that was either not easily available, or that others did not want known. It had been a long time, and some of the resources he'd once used were no longer available, but other resources had replaced them. It was just a matter of deciding what he needed to know, and working the available resources. It helped that he was able to use different libraries, sometimes even one in the morning and another in the afternoon, so he could ask research librarians his questions without concern that he was divulging too much to any one person. If anything, his political experience in the years since he regularly did this sort of research helped him – he was a master at sweet-talking the ladies who occupied most of these positions.

By the end of that week, Cornelius had crafted the story that would be behind his next adventure, one that he hoped would be the first step on his path back to power at the Ministry.

He was careful and knew that attention to every detail was essential to his success, so he'd researched everything from current muggle men's fashion, to real estate trends in the Little Whinging area, to the business of Grunnings. He had found the address of what seemed to be the only hotel in Little Whinging, had a list of restaurants and clubs and the name of an estate agent in the community. Several large books in the muggle libraries had proven to be valuable sources of this kind of information, and fortunately, he was able to use his magic to shrink them so he could stroll out of the libraries with the reference materials he needed, right under the watchful eyes of the librarians.

Cornelius was still a little vague on what business he was going to say he was in. Knowing that the Grunnings firm made drills did not really tell him what Vernon Dursley did there. If he was going to make contact with Dursley through his work, he needed to be prepared to interact with Dursley more than deal with the firm. He had a cover story about a family investment firm that he was confident would serve him well until he had enough additional information to refine it further.

Cornelius, who was now using the name Charles Frost and sporting snowy white hair, apparated in a muggle-style business suit to a busy hub in a London suburb on Saturday morning, and from there, took a muggle train to Little Whinging. He wanted to stay in town that weekend to look the place over, maybe gather some local news and information, before actually engaging with the locals at work on Monday.

He was glad that he'd shrunken his trunk for travel, but once he exited the train, he transfigured it into a modest suitcase, easy enough to carry with him on the short stroll down the road to the Whinging Hotel. Carefully schooling his features not to display the utter disappointment he felt arriving at this over-done and yet still slightly shabby muggle edifice, he entered the lobby and approached the registration desk.

He wasn't entirely sure how this all worked in the muggle world, but was confident of his ability to use a confundus spell on the clerk if necessary, in case anything was amiss. He had made a reservation using that muggle contraption, the telephone, but did not know what would happen when he arrived. He'd also secured a small piece of odd, brittle muggle material, called a "credit card," that would allow him to pay his bill without having to carry wads of muggle money. It identified him as Charles Frost, and he'd made arrangements through the same solicitors who handled the bills for the Abbeville flat to deal with this thing, as well.

Cornelius offered his name, as he'd do at a magical inn, and waited to see what happened next. She typed some words into a big box, and seconds later, a machine next to it roared to life, spewing paper with neat little type on it.

As the young lady, presumably named "Ashley" based on the metal badge on her jacket, took the paper from the machine, she smiled at him and spoke at last. "Ah, yes, Mr. Frost, lovely to have you here! Staying for a week I see, and we have a lovely room for you. Breakfast is in the lounge to your left, the lift is just past the potted palms over there, and our restaurant serves one of the finest Sunday dinners in Surrey, very popular. I recommend it. If you'd just sign here, we're all set. Do you need any help with luggage?"

Cornelius was relieved that they were "all set." Always better when everything worked out right without having to use magic, especially when you aren't really familiar with the protocol. He signed with the offered biro, noting how ugly the writing was with the strange ink in there, and he was careful to use his assumed name.

"No, thank you, Ashley, I can manage it myself. Thank you for the advice on the restaurant; I'm not sure if I'll be here for dinner, but if my schedule permits, I will take your recommendation, I'm sure. Good day to you." He nodded formally, as was his habit, and headed over to the dusty potted palms, to navigate the lift up to his room.

Cornelius spent Saturday and most of Sunday morning wandering around the town, getting an idea of what was where, chatting up the shopkeepers and waitresses in the small restaurants to get a sense of the people and the current events and gossip. As unpleasant as consorting with muggles may be, politics was politics, and the things that worked for him in the magical world worked just as well in Little Whinging. He found the Grunnings offices, and the office of the estate agent he intended to see on Monday. There was a businessmen's club just up the street from Grunnings, which he assumed would be the one the Dursley man frequented, if he belonged to any clubs. A light application of magic on the maitre de assured him of a warm welcome and guest privileges in the club for the ensuing week, or as long as he needed.

Cornelius took Ashley's advice on Sunday and reserved a table at the Whinging Hotel restaurant for dinner. It drew a surprisingly large crowd, but then again, he did not see many fine dining establishments in the area that might be competition. Cornelius had a table off to one side, with a good view of the room and the street outside the large window that looked over the street.

He was enjoying an acceptable roast with surprisingly tasty mashed turnips as three middle-aged women were seated at the next table. As they fussed over the menu, and ordered disgustingly sweet drinks from the waiter, Cornelius concluded that they were three unmarried ladies out for a monthly "treat" at what was to them a very fine establishment. He paid them no attention, until a name whispered by one of them caught his attention.

The mousy-looking one with her hair in a prim, graying bun was sharing some gossip, it seemed, about someone she worked for. "And Mr. Dursley, well, you know what he says about this?"

It was clear that the others heard regularly about what Mr. Dursley did or said, as one rolled her eyes at the reference, although they both bent forward to hear whatever it was. Cornelius could not quite hear over the general hubbub in the bustling restaurant, but he was able to gather quite a bit of information about his target from the things that were shared more loudly.

Cornelius was enjoying a brandy after his meal as the ladies at the next table had moved on to gossip about the vicar's wife. He mulled over all that he'd just heard about Vernon Dursley, and marveled at how things had changed over the three years since he first heard of the man.

Cornelius, like most persons of consequence in the wizarding world, knew that Dumbledore had stashed the Potter boy somewhere, but all official attempts to find him had come to naught. The boy appeared at Hogwarts right on schedule, but disappeared during the summers, as if into thin air.

Until the summer before his third year at Hogwarts, that is.

There seemed to have been some sort of altercation at the Dursley household, resulting in Potter using accidental magic to blow up Vernon's sister Marge. Cornelius stepped in immediately to be sure all was covered up, but took advantage of the chance to learn exactly where Potter was living. He instructed the Ministry team that handled the incident to surreptitiously check on the family after Potter was back at Hogwarts.

The Ministry team observed the Dursleys living in solid muggle middle-class splendor, treating their boy Dudley like a prince. They assumed that Harry fit into the family smoothly, and that Dudley was at the house more often because he went to a school located just a town or two away. It never occurred to them that Harry's experience in the Dursley home was different in any way from the doting, even fawning care heaped on the other boy. It wasn't until a year and a half later that any information surfaced that would contradict that report.

One of Cornelius' many "sources" contacted him when she detected a rather rare and complicated magical spell on some muggle school records that had been shipped to a storage facility in a remote part of Britain, near where she lived. Cornelius asked her to obtain the spelled records and send them to him directly. It took some of the most accomplished Ministry spell-breakers over a month to undo the magic that protected the records, and once he saw what the records disclosed, Cornelius understood why these mundane muggle documents warranted such strong magical protection.

Harry Potter was abused by his relatives. It was clear. From the boy's first year at school until he went to Hogwarts, various officials at the school he attended dutifully recorded all manner of injuries with which he came to school – black eyes, bumps on the head, broken fingers, sprained ankles, even a broken collarbone! The earliest entries indicated that he told the teachers and nurses that his uncle had hit him, or his aunt had smacked him, or his cousin had beaten him up. It seemed that, sometime in the first year, Potter learned that no one was going to help him, and it was possible that he got in trouble for having implicated his family, so he stopped blaming them, saying that he fell, or tripped. The magic surrounding the records prevented anyone from recalling them, or from being able to read them later, so there was never any recognition of a pattern.

Had the boy not had magic, it was doubtful that he could have survived with this family. As it was, his magic healed the broken bones much faster than a muggle's bones would heal, and presumably made short work of the soft tissue injuries as well. Cornelius had never had access to any of the medical records kept at Hogwarts, but he was certain that the mediwitch there had her hands full when the boy first arrived, getting him back to rights.

He'd tasked several of his most trusted associates with gathering more information about Potter's muggle family. When they shared what they found and documented, Cornelius was absolutely certain that his plan to adopt the boy would work, as he had ample evidence of the abuse Potter suffered at the hands of his muggle relatives.

He'd come so close, it still hurt to think about it. His position in the Ministry would have been unassailable had only his plan to adopt Potter gone through! But, for some unknown reason, that daft old coot, Dumbledore, saw fit to marry the boy off to that hideous Snape, of all people.

As he sat in the restaurant of the Whinging Hotel, sipping his brandy, Cornelius felt the familiar rage building up inside of him as he thought back on that splendid, foiled plan. He took a deep, centering breath. No use getting all upset again at history.

Today was a new day, after all. And he had a new plan. In all likelihood, a better plan. He could not wait for tomorrow!

Cornelius had learned from the conversation on which he eavesdropped that Dursley always arrived at the office at 9:45 on Monday mornings. His usual Monday telephone call with the people at the head office would occur at 10:30, and "the numbers for September were looking good," so he'd been in a great mood all day. That meant he was likely to take at least two hours for lunch at his club up the road.

From scattered comments made in that conversation by the woman, Margaret Enderlee, who he surmised was Dursley's assistant, Cornelius had concluded that Dursley's role at Grunnings involved distribution of the drills manufactured by the firm someplace up north. He'd gotten some trade information about Grunnings and had some information upstairs about the drills, and now he knew what Dursley did.

If necessary, the family investments he represented so vaguely could be found to include a business that needed a direct contract with a drill manufacturer. He hoped the trade information would give him an idea of the use to which these drills were generally put, so he could position the imaginary family business appropriately to need them.

He was creative. It was very possible that the family business would not even have to become part of this conversation, but details were always important. He'd not made an appointment with the estate agent for Monday, and now he thought he'd find a way to meet Dursley at lunch on Monday and let events suggest what he needed to be doing in Little Whinging after that.

Everything hinged on the best way to be sure he had the access he needed to the crackpots behind this anti-wizard movement. Dursley was his point of entry, so he no doubt needed an excuse to be nearby for some period of time. Maybe he didn't need to be here to negotiate a contract with Grunnings for drills. Maybe he needed to be looking for space for a manufacturing plant, or maybe he needed undeveloped land on which he would build something, he thought, as he signaled the waiter for another brandy when he brought the ladies their check.

Things fell neatly into place for Cornelius on Monday.

He visited the club a bit before one o'clock, figuring that Dursley's regular call had to take at least two hours, and then allowing him time to walk over to the club. He made quite a production of making the acquaintance of the staff and the various members who arrived when he did. He had just been introduced to Reggie Mason, the estate agent he had intended to meet later in the week, when his real target waddled into the bar. Merlin's beard, he was a size!

Reggie enthusiastically called out to Vernon, who lumbered on over and who greeted Charles Frost quite cordially upon being introduced. Reggie proposed that the three share a table for lunch, and just like that, Cornelius was in.

It took Cornelius no time at all to get the conversation on to current events, and who would think anything of that? With no prodding from him at all, Reggie mentioned magic, and soon Reggie and Vernon were going strong on the subject of wizards. When Cornelius agreed with the two of them and expressed his admiration for those taking action, he was invited to join them on Tuesday afternoon at an event Reggie had organized in a nearby town, and at which Vernon was speaking. He accepted immediately and enthusiastically.

Cornelius' biggest challenge of Monday afternoon was the need to adjust his carefully-crafted background story, leaving Grunnings out of it, dropping his search for suitable space to open some sort of business, returning to his vague family investment business cover.

Tuesday highlighted to Cornelius a sad parallel between wizards and muggles.

He joined his two new friends for a drive in Reggie's automobile (a trip that left Cornelius feeling nauseous) and watched as various speakers warned a small crowd about the evils of magic. Vernon was among those who stirred the crowd up with cries that they must do something. But that was all it was – just talk. No one in the room was actually going to act.

Until he took the podium. Adding a bit to his story, Cornelius spoke of his time in the army, in foreign lands, fighting the enemy. He had never been in an army, of course. He figured he'd have known if there was a muggle war being waged right here in Britain, but assumed, muggles being muggles, there were hostilities going on somewhere, and Englishmen being Englishmen, at least some of them were involved, wherever it was.

Once again, he vague references were sufficient. He was the voice of military authority to this lot. And he spoke of specific actions that they were going to take to do something about magic. The people at the meeting were galvanized by Cornelius' rhetoric, and felt the call to action.

Charles Frost represented the tipping point. These town meetings were no longer going to be opportunities to fuss and yell about magic – they were now going to be recruiting events for an anti-magic army, and Mr. Frost knew of one stronghold castle, up in Scotland, where the leaders of the wizards were hiding. He'd help guide this army to defeat the scourge of magic.

Hiram Riddle lurked in the back of the room and watched this muggle wonder, Charles Frost, stir the muggles up. This was exactly what the Dark Lord wanted this team to do, but Hiram certainly had not had any luck, and from conversations he'd had with his fellow Death Eaters, none of them were stirring up much action. This man was just what they needed.

Later that evening, as those in the service of the Dark Lord gathered in the dining hall at Riddle Manor, Hiram reported that he'd found a muggle (who knew where Charles Frost came from, so why not take credit?) who not only spoke eloquently against magic, but seemed capable of actually getting the muggles to act. Lord Voldemort was very pleased by this development.

"Well done, young Hiram! Mr. Frost sounds like the missing part of the puzzle here. The muggle estate agent from town served us well in reaching out to form a group of like-minded citizens through his contacts in real estate, but we needed a fire-brand, a visionary, who can inspire action. I think we may have this person in your Mr. Frost," Voldemort murmurred, as he seemed to make a decision. "You must see to it that he makes the acquaintance of those from other parts of Britain who might be inspired to join this anti-magic army. For now, all of you remain the in the shadows as much as you can, gently guiding this endeavor and helping it along so that none know where the help came from. At some point, we know that they will need to amass weaponry of some sort, and we can be of great help then, maybe even be more visible."

Voldemort's original plan had been thwarted, but he'd taken a very different approach this time. Rather than attempt to control events, this time (at least eventually), he'd allowed events to unfold and looked for opportunity and serendipity to present themselves. He was very pleased, very pleased indeed with the progress being made. His Death Eaters had been good at organizing and rousing the muggle rabble, but they lacked the vision or skill to really inspire them to act. Wherever this Mr. Frost came from, he was just what they needed. His appearance, just as it was needed, seemed to confirm the rightness of his endeavor.

In the ensuing days, Cornelius was astonished at the progress he made. He was receiving invitations from across England to speak at anti-wizard community events. These groups all had similar goals, but there seemed to be the loosest of connections between them. He was surprised, and very grateful, that he'd been able to reach out to so many so quickly. They needed his leadership and organizational skills! He abandoned the room at the Little Whinging Hotel by the end of the week, and largely abandoned the elaborate history he'd created for himself. He didn't regret all the work he'd done – he realized that it was necessary to enabled him to reach out to Vernon Dursley, and in doing so, he'd been able to connect with the anti-wizard movement. The serendipity of it all suggested that he was, indeed, on the right path.

X X X X X X X X X X

As September came to a close, Lucius Malfoy was approached by a long-time Ministry flunky on behalf of someone who he reported to be one of his more reliable informants, who purportedly had "interesting information" to sell. At first, he was inclined to dismiss the elaborate set-up as something that no longer mattered to him, but he quickly thought better of it. In a way, he missed all the intrigue of gathering information others did not want known, knowing something others did not, and being able to use his knowledge to his own advantage. What harm could be done in indulging in this silly game one more time?

Lucius agreed to have the flunky, who he knew traded in low-level, often stale information but who occasionally stumbled onto something interesting, set up a meeting for him with the informant. He proposed that he meet the informant at a small, very discreet inn a short walk from Diagon Alley. Lucius had often entertained his lovers there and trusted the proprietor and staff for their discretion as well as their security, which seemed prudent for this meeting as well.

On the agreed-upon date and time, Lucius apparated directly to the inn from his office, rather than risk being seen entering or exiting, and took a table in the corner of the front room, sipping a whiskey while he awaited the arrival of the informant, who arrived on foot a half hour later. Lucius didn't recognize the man.

"'Evening, Guv," the lanky man in workmen's robes offered as he manhandled the chair and took his seat. "I'll have me one of them whiskeys."

Lucius nodded to the barman, watching Lucius' guest intently but discreetly, and the requested drink was delivered.

The man sniffed it, smiled and took a gulp of the amber liquid. He winked at Lucius as he offered his opening to these negotiations. "Been seein' some strange things, lately, Guv. I thought to myself, who might know what to make of all this? Who might know if we needs to be takin' action? Or if anythin's amiss? I right wasn't sure. But I knows Mallory over at the Ministry – we goes way back. So I went to see him, and told him a little bit of what I's been seein'. He tells me, right off, that Lord Malfoy will be very interested in this. So, here I am."

Lucius stifled thoughts that this man was some sort of back-water bumpkin. He always assumed, entering into any negotiation of this sort, that the other party was as sharp and savvy as he was. Of course, it was always difficult to put a price on something without having any idea what it was.

"I am always interested in the events of the world, as Mr. Mallory knows. I have absolutely no idea about what you've observed, so can offer no thoughts at all whether it is of concern or interest to me, or to anyone," he replied languidly.

"Well, Guv, Mallory says you're a trustworthy sort – wouldn't take advantage. I work at Eastbrooks," the man offered. Lucius nodded in reply. Eastbrooks was a not-quite-reputable business, not that they traded in dark objects like Borgin and Burkes. More the sort of place one went if one needed an untraceable wand, or an item that had gone missing from someone's vault, or weaponry. Weapons?

"Do tell me a bit about what you believe you've observed, sir. I am aware in general of the sort of wares in which Eastbrooks tends to deal, and might have some interest in offering compensation for this news," Lucius replied, anxious to move this forward.

The man leaned in, hardly necessary in the nearly-empty inn, but he now saw the opportunity for profit.

"I seen quite a bit of trade lately in weapons. Not just bows and arrows, and long swords, but trebuchets. Who's buying and selling? We need to discuss that."

Lucius was now in his element. He leaned closer himself, and the two men whispered intently for several moments as an appropriate level of compensation was agreed upon, and information about the sale and shipment of significant amounts of weapons to "private collectors" in over a dozen cities was provided. Lucius was quite impressed with the level of details the man recalled about who bought what. It was quite a massive purchase, and he was inclined to agree with his informant that it seemed more like one purchase shipped to different places than multiple smaller purchases.

"I assume, sir, that you have some agreement with Mallory to split the compensation you garner from our meeting. What I'd like to propose," Lucius said, as he placed five large 100-galleon coins on the table, "is that we arrange to speak in the future directly, should you have more news to impart. If you speak to Rufus, the barman here, he knows how to reach me, and you and I can meet here again at an agreed-upon time. I'd anticipate that the level of compensation we've agreed to today would continue, although presumably, you would not be obligated to share any of it."

The man smiled, teeth crooked and stained. He downed his tumbler of whiskey, and nodded at Lucius as he stood, pocketed the coins, and sauntered from the inn.

Lucius waited until he was gone, and likely nearly back to Diagon Alley, before he stood himself and approached Rufus to settle his tab.

"I invited that gentleman to contact you should he have additional information that he'd like to discuss with me, and that you know how to reach me to arrange a meeting." Lucius added a couple of 100-galleon coins to the amount that covered his tab, and handed it over.

Rufus grinned and nodded, as he stepped aside so Lord Malfoy could go into the back room and use the floo to depart. He had no idea of the games Malfoy played, but the man took very good care of those who served him well. Very good care, indeed.

For his part, Lucius spent a good hour back in his office at the Ministry that evening pondering his encounter and the information he'd procured. Of course, he never acted on information from just one source. He had a contact, the very bright squib daughter of a dark family, who augmented the rather meager wages paid to her in her family business by using her network to collect and sell confidential business and financial records. She did not discover secrets, but had the means to verify information once Lucius had specific questions. He dispatched an owl to her immediately, asking for the details on the shipments now of interest to him. He'd do or say nothing until she verified what he'd been told.

Regardless of when he acted, he allowed himself to contemplate the magnitude of these purchases. Assuming, as he was inclined to do, that this was one large purchase staged to look like multiple smaller ones, it was staggering. This was not a collection, this was not for defense of remote properties. A vast quantity of the weapons used by wizards was being dispatched across England, into cities and large towns.

This looked like someone was getting ready for a war.

X X X X X X X X X X

The muggle Prime Minister watched with growing alarm as the militancy of the anti-magic movement increased with lightening speed. There had been lots of meetings for a while now, but lately, the rhetoric had been stronger and the groups seemed to have reached some kind of tipping point. Not only were they now actively advocating attacking witches and wizards, they had begun to reach out to one another and act together. The reports of the agents of his government who kept close tabs on such things were frightening.

It occurred to the Prime Minister that, while the magical Minister could reach out to him through that horrible little portrait, he had no way to initiate contact with her or the Ministry of Magic. Every time he though to try to use the portrait to send a message, the little man wasn't in it. He called Martin Entwhistle into his office.

"Yes, sir?" Entwhistle asked, taking a seat and preparing to take notes.

Waving the pad aside, the Prime Minister asked "How can I make contact with your people? I want to speak to your Minister, and I swear, as soon as I look at that little picture over there, the little man disappears."

Entwhistle had heard something of the work ethic of the image in that portrait – he was notoriously hard to get to cooperate, even when the Minister requested his help. He'd heard that the gentleman in question had been just like that in life, as well.

"I can alert the Minister of your desire to speak to her right away, sir, and we'll set something up that will enable you to make contact when you need to reach her. We don't have anything like a telephone in our world, but we have other ways to do this," Entwhistle said, and he stood and went to the fireplace. Kneeling before it, he tossed in some floo powder and firecalled to the Minister's office. Her assistant assured him that the Prime Minister would step through the floo in the next few minutes.

Entwhistle had to stifle a smile at the shock on the Prime Minister's face. "The floo can be used to speak to others on the network, not just to visit them physically. She saw my face in the flames at her end, and we spoke," he explained.

The green flames flared again just seconds later, and the Minister of Magic herself stepped into the room. As she shook hands with the Prime Minister, Entwhistle quietly stepped out of the room, to advise the others in the staff area that the Prime Minister was not to be disturbed.

The Prime Minister paced across his carpet, even as the Minister took a seat. "Mrs. Bones, we have very troubling information. We've told you of the growing anti-magic sentiments many of our citizens have expressed, and your Mr. Potter has been very generous with his time in preparing those messages with the Royal Family. But things have changed in the last several days. Our agents monitoring the situation report that the agitation is growing, and we fear physical attacks are imminent. We are trying to stay close to this, and prevent the attacks, but there are so many groups, scattered across the land, and we are concerned." He did, indeed, look very worried.

"I certainly appreciate your candor and the warning, Mr. Prime Minister," Amelia replied. "Do you have any details? We can certainly work on improving our defenses where necessary, and possibly from some the information you have, we might be able to identify where the attacks are most likely to occur."

"Of course, of course, I'll have copies of the reports made for you, right now. And several of our agents took photographs of the gatherings. I'll have a set made of those for you, as well." He added, almost apologetically, "These are our standard photographs – they don't move like yours do."

He strode over to his desk, and pushed a small button. A light on Entwhistle's desk lit up, and he entered the office, careful to close the door behind him lest others see that he had a guest who had not been observed arriving.

"Entwhistle, I'd like to provide the Minister of Magic with a set of the reports that were filed this morning and of the photos that were sent in. How quickly can you get that done?" the Prime Minister asked.

"I'll bring them right in," was the reply, as Entwhistle withdrew, only to appear seconds later with a thick folder. He'd used magic to replicate the folder he'd prepared for the Prime Minister, but did not explain. Let the man think he'd prepared two sets initially, if it made him feel better.

Amelia accepted the folder, and after shaking the Prime Minister's hand and nodding at Entwhistle, she departed via the floo.

When Amelia got to her office, she began to read through the large sheaf of paper. She noticed that two names appeared in connection with quite a few of these meetings – Charles Frost and Vernon Dursley. She also noticed, as she read through more of the reports, that an awful lot of people with the surname Riddle were involved.

As she was pondering these names, Albus Dumbledore was announced by her assistant.

"I was in the Ministry on Hogwarts business, Amelia, and thought I'd stop in to visit an old friend," he offered by way of greeting. "It looks as if I've caught you at a bad time."

Amelia looked up from the reports sharply. "Albus, I've just gotten some information from the muggle Prime Minister about the growing anti-magic movement. I just scanned it myself, and several names keep repeating. I'm drawing a blank on them, but I'm sure I've heard them before. Here, take a look." She pushed the pile of papers across to him as he took a visitor's seat next to her desk.

Albus spent just a moment noting the names of those who attended the various meetings as speakers, and flipped through to some pages in the back with photos of unmoving muggles. He spent several minutes studying the pictures before he shook his head and sighed deeply.

"Amelia, Vernon Dursley is Harry Potter's uncle. Here, this is a photo of him – the very large man standing next to the smaller man with white hair." He handed one of the photos over to her. "Dursley was at Hogwarts while the muggles slept, and I saw him, so I know that's him. The man next to him seems to be the one identified as Charles Frost. He's in several of these pictures, usually with Dursley. I think we know him better with dark gray hair, wearing wizards robes and using his real name – that looks like Cornelius Fudge to me." Amelia gasped in agreement.

"And Riddle is a name I know well. I think I recognize the faces of several of the people identified here as Riddles, although that's not their real surname. I think this one here," as he pushed another photo over, "is one of the McNair boys, Hiram if I recall. He was at Hogwarts ten or so years ago. So, why do so many of these people seem to have the same surname? We had a boy named Tom Riddle at Hogwarts years ago. Today, most know him by his assumed name: Lord Voldemort."

Amelia dropped the papers she had been holding in her hand when Albus said that. "You mean, Cornelius Fudge is now in league with . . . with . . . him?" she asked incredulously, but not quite able to say Voldemort's name. "But they are all wizards, and this is an anti-magic movement. What are they up to?"

Albus tilted his head as he considered. It certainly was odd to see wizards leading an anti-magic movement among muggles. And he knew that Cornelius was terrified of Voldemort, so that was a most unlikely alliance.

What in Merlin's name was going on here?


	49. Ch 126 Strangest Possible Bedfellows

Chapter 126 – Strangest Possible Bedfellows

Minister Bones handed the photos she'd gotten from the muggle Prime Minister over to the Aurors, with a request that they study each and determine if there are Death Eaters identifiable in the crowds. That job became easier, in a rather indirect way, two days later when she received a visit from Lucius Malfoy.

Lucius' information had not only been confirmed by his contact, she had provided copies of bills of sale and delivery information, as well as payment records. He thought briefly on what to do with this news. Not that long ago, he might have meted details out to the Dark Lord if there seemed profit to him in that direction, or if there seemed to be no reason to think the Dark Lord would be interested, he would be considering how knowing this might be used to his own political or financial advantage. It truly felt that those days were over, and Lucius had not yet worked out in his mind how to translate this sort of situation for the new path on which he walked.

Might this be something to share with Harry Potter? He relished the chance to speak directly to the young man, although in truth, Severus would be there scowling at him and that made the prospect less enticing for Lucius. Dumbledore? He never really liked Dumbledore. The last thing he wanted to do was to replace the Dark Lord with the old coot. No, the best approach here seemed to be to act in a manner consistent with his role now on the Wizengamot, and tell the Minister of Magic.

Lucius swept from his offices and down the corridors to hers, imperiously informing the assistants sitting outside her office that he needed a word with the Minister immediately, on a most urgent matter. His attitude did not go over well, and the initial reaction of the assistant who managed the Minister's calendar was to suggest that he get an appointment, and the earliest they could squeeze him in was two weeks hence. As she hesitated before actually giving voice to that suggestion, he simply swept past the staff and into the office with a sneer, before any of them could stop him.

Amelia looked up from her desk as the door was thrown open with a bang.

"Lucius, what a surprise," she said flatly, no enthusiasm in her voice. However, she did nod to her assistant to indicate that the disruption should be allowed, as the assistant had followed in after Malfoy. "I assume there is some significant reason for this most unexpected visit."

Granted, Harry Potter trusted Malfoy, and he'd been a model member of the Wizengamot since being seated, but distrust of the man was practically a gut reaction for those with any history with Malfoy. Too many remembered his huddling with Cornelius Fudge, and did not want to allow any vestige of Fudge's administration as Minister to be replicated now.

"Indeed, Madam Minister. I have come across some very disturbing information, and I thought it should be brought to your attention immediately," he said in his most imperious manner. He removed a large sheaf of parchments from his robe, and waved them.

"I learned of some very disturbing purchases of weaponry over at Eastbrooks. I have taken the precaution of having the information verified, and as a consequence, now have details – the bills of sale, financing arrangements, and such. The quantity of weapons purchased is alarming enough, but the additional research suggests that this is one very substantial purchase, rather than many individual purchases that coincidentally occurred at the same time."

Lucius was gratified, indeed, when the Minister put her quill down and stood from her desk to come to him to take the parchments.

Amelia was initially not sure how much to tell Lucius; he was, after all, Lucius Malfoy. She decided that, since he'd come to her with this news, he might be trusted with at least an overview of the information they'd gotten from the muggles. Whatever sources he had, and they were rumored to be extensive indeed, he might be able to get other information they could use if he had an idea of what they saw as the bigger picture.

"Thank you, Lucius," she began, curious as to how he'd react to her use of his first name. "Please take a seat."

Lucius was a bit surprised at the Minister's familiarity, but accepted it as a sign of his own growing acceptance in this new society.

"Thank you, Amelia," he replied in kind as he swept over to one of the chairs across from her desk.

"This is extraordinarily significant information, Lucius, and I appreciate your sharing it with me," the Minister began in her soft voice. "We have gotten word from the muggle government that the anti-wizard movement is beginning to show signs of coalescing, and they are very worried about a growing militancy among them over recent weeks."

Lucius was puzzled. Eastmans was a store in the wizard community, not one to which muggles would have access, and the weapons that were purchased were of the sort that wizards, not muggles, would use. "Amelia, what would the muggles have to do with a massive weapons purchase from Eastmans?"

Amelia really didn't want to provide too many details, as in her gut, she did not trust the man, but then again, he might be more useful to them if he had some broader awareness.

"Actually, we suspect that there might be some wizards in the background of the muggle insurrections," she began, as her guest reacted with surprise. "We've seen some muggle photographs and read the muggle reports about these groups. Actually, I think the greatest surprise was to discover that a substantial number of the people supporting the groups are surnamed 'Riddle.' You no doubt are aware that Voldemort's birth name was Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Amelia had the rare pleasure of taking Lucius completely by surprise; she made a mental note to mention this to Albus one day. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.

She proceeded with barely-disguised glee. "Albus Dumbledore told me the story. Tom Riddle's mother was a witch, but his father was a muggle. A very sad story there, I understand. However, when Riddle decided to pursue his dark agenda, he fashioned a new name for himself. We are very concerned that so many people who identified themselves as Riddle are behind this. We suspect Death Eaters, actually."

Lucius was beyond flabbergasted. The Dark Lord was a half-blood? He felt his world shift on its axis. The man who was so passionate about the purity of blood, and who held himself out as the natural leader of the pure bloods, was not a pure blood? Even though Lucius had shifted his allegiance, he could not believe this deception! To Amelia's amusement, he actually needed a moment to compose himself after that revelation.

Finally, he felt confident enough of his voice to speak. "Death Eaters collaborating with muggles?" was all he could get out. Set aside the Dark Lord's parentage – who in their right mind thought it likely that Death Eaters would be consorting anonymously, seeking to blend in, with muggles?

Amelia could only shrug at that. "We aren't sure, exactly, but the involvement of all those Riddles is certainly suggestive of that. The Aurors are studying the muggle pictures to determine if we recognize wizards among the anti-wizard muggles."

"Well, then, it might be useful for the Aurors to review this new information about weapons purchases," Lucius offered, "and see if there is a correlation between the activity they or the muggles have detected and the purchases documented here. Or perhaps they can trace some of these purchases back to some of the wizards they believe are involved in this anti-wizard movement."

"Thank you, Lucius. Exactly how reliable is this information?" Amelia inquired. She knew that Lucius had "sources" but had no idea if anyone should be comfortable relying on them.

"I spoke to someone who works at Eastmans, who observed the curious pattern of purchases, and mentioned it to me. I had someone else confirm those purchases, and she was able to provide the documentation I just gave you. I've never spoken to the Eastmans employee before, but have asked the woman who confirmed the information I received to perform similar services in the past, always with totally reliable results. This is accurate information, I assure you." He stood from his chair.

"Thank you very much, then, Lucius. This will help us greatly. I appreciate your coming forward with this. Please let me know immediately if you encounter any additional information in the future," Amelia said to the retreating form of her visitor.

As Lucius reached the door, he turned and nodded in that formal way he had, as he replied, "I am at your service."

Amelia immediately summoned Darmut from the Auror office, and provided Lucius' contribution to his investigation. Darmut's eyebrows went up when he learned the source of the parchments he was given. He, like many in the Auror office, had heard of Lucius' remarkable ability to gather information from shadowy sources, and he was actually very excited at the prospect of being on the receiving end of the information he'd collected. This should be very interesting!

The Auror team needed a boost as they studied the muggle pictures. The secretive nature of the Death Eaters meant that they were not sure who they were looking for to begin with, and they did not know what they looked like, anyway. They detected several faces that appeared at more than one meeting, and a few where the muggles had identified someone as a "Riddle" but they were not making much progress toward actually attaching wizard names to most of those faces.

Lucius' information provided a few new and tantalizing names that likely included a few real names, and the information about where shipments went helped narrow down the likely recipients based on locations, but the Aurors were still having a very difficult time with their task. The pictures of interest were enlarged and posted on a wall in the Auror office, so they could be inspected both up close and from a distance. To many in the Auror office, this seemed a fool's errand.

This was the scene Hermione came upon when she got permission from the Headmaster to visit the Ministry the next afternoon. She had informed the Headmaster that she had to follow up on some of her research to refine the article she had written and was near to submitting for publication. Professor Snape had suggested that she needed some additional information about one of the cases she had analyzed in her research, and it was information that originally came from the Aurors.

Hermione sat at an unoccupied desk and tried not to be too obvious in her inspection of the photographs on the wall as she waited for the file she requested to be pulled. She finally could not contain herself.

"May I ask, why do you have muggle photographs on the wall?" she asked of the young Auror with whom she'd been chatting. The young Auror, Piers something-or-other, briefly wondered if this was highly confidential or something he could share with their visitor. Since none of the seniors had bothered covering the pictures when she arrived, he figured he could answer her questions.

"We got those from the muggle government. They are the muggles who are involved in the anti-wizard movement, but we suspect that there might be a wizard or two in there, and we're trying to identify them," he replied.

"This is the anti-wizard movement, you say? What on earth would wizards be doing participating in that? Who do you think might be involved with muggles?" Hermione immediately questioned.

Piers shook his head. "You won't believe it. Someone thinks that supporters of You-Know-Who are riling up the muggles. Of course, the Death Eaters don't publish a membership directory, so it's a bit of a challenge, since we have no idea who might even be involved here."

By then, Hermione's file arrived and she set about reviewing the information and gathering the specific facts that Professor Snape had pointed out seemed to be inadequately supported in her article. She returned the file when she was done and chatted with Piers a few more minutes.

"Have you made any progress on my other request, about the magical history of that man who tried to assassinate Professor Snape?" she asked. Her request that the Aurors look into that had been duly noted as part of her research, but in light of everything else that was going on, it had not been acted upon. It appeared from Piers' expression, nothing had changed.

"Sorry, Miss, but we've been run ragged with things going on right here. Near as we can determine, he was a mercenary, and we don't know who he was working for. The best we have right now, he seemed to be from somewhere in central Europe, based on facial features, what we could assess of what remained of his magic, things like that, although he'd recently traveled to India."

She thanked Piers and headed out to the floos in the lobby to return to Hogwarts, a glum expression on her face. On her way, she ran into Kingsley Shacklebolt, on his way to his own routine meeting with the Minister himself.

"Miss Granger, what brings you to the Ministry?" he asked, curious that Albus Dumbledore was allowing a student to travel by herself to the Ministry while school was in session. Given all that was going on in the world, allowing students to travel alone seemed imprudent. He appreciated that this young woman was a special case, but still….

"I'm working on an article, and Professor Snape pointed out an area where I needed greater clarity, so I just checking in with the Aurors to review their file on that case once again."

"And were you unable to get what you needed?" he asked, observing the sour expression on her face.

She blushed. "Oh, they gave me access to the file, no problem. I was just a bit disappointed that we've made no progress on identifying the man who attacked Professor Snape. I had asked that we try to gather information about his magical history, sort of playing my research forward a bit. I gather that's a very low priority. No, the Aurors were fine, thanks. Actually, you might have records of great help to them in a project on which they are working now. You helped gather up the Death Eaters last year when we were removing Dark Marks – they are trying to identify Death Eaters that the Aurors suspect are in some photographs they got from the muggle authorities. You might recognize some, and maybe the names you have would help."

She headed on the floo and thought no further of it.

When she had edited her article, she brought the rewrite, which she hoped was the final one, down to the dungeons to give to Professor Snape for a final review. He had office hours late this afternoon.

"Professor, I think this is the final draft of my article. I checked those facts again on the Llewellyn case, and have made them as clear as possible. If you think this is ready, I'd like to submit it to Magical Maladies Review," she said as she handed over her stack of parchments.

"You had no difficulty, then, securing access to the files?" the professor asked, still slightly incredulous that a Hogwarts student could gain such unfettered access to the Auror's case files.

"Oh, no problem. I think they welcomed a break, actually." Hermione was tempted to say more, about what the Aurors wanted a break from. Professor Snape was not known for engaging in gossip with students, so she stopped there.

Severus caught that she had more to say. While he truly detested small talk in any form, this was Hermione Granger, and somehow Miss Granger's observations were more likely than most to contain actionable information. He raised his eyebrows at her expectantly, as she hesitated.

Emboldened by the Professor's expression of interest, Hermione proceeded. "I actually saw something quite interesting there. They had muggle pictures on the wall in the Aurors' office – it seems that the muggle anti-wizard movement is heating up, and the muggle government provided the Ministry with photos of some of the gatherings. The Aurors actually think that Death Eaters have infiltrated that movement! They have no idea who the Death Eaters are, so it seems a fool's task to find their faces in the pictures, but they are doing their best. I think they welcomed my request since it gave them a break from studying the pictures."

Severus' mind was racing at that news, and he wondered what Albus knew of it. Albus had said nothing about developments in the muggle world recently, but now it appeared that was not because nothing was happening. He'd deal with Albus, but had no intention of revealing this to a student. Instead, he replied, "I did feel that you needed those few small facts from the Llewellyn case to support your conclusion in that section. I'll read this over once more and return it with any final thoughts, and will send you the name of the editor at the Review to whom I'd suggest that you send your manuscript."

Hermione went away satisfied, while Severus fumed. When no other student appeared within the next five minutes, he decided that his office hours were over. He locked and warded his office door behind him as he strode in long, purposeful steps up to the Headmaster's office. Albus was chatting with a portrait as Severus swept in.

"Ah, Severus, my boy! To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this fine afternoon?" Albus asked, believing that a warm and genial greeting would soothe whatever anger seemed to be bubbling up in his Potions professor. He gestured for Severus to take a seat.

Severus ignored the chair, and paced, his robes billowing elegantly around him with each turn. "I regret that you no longer seem to feel it necessary or appropriate to share news from the Ministry, Headmaster. For example, I have learned that there is now sufficient concern about those anti-magic gatherings that the muggles are photographing them, and our Auror corps are spending their days studying those photographs to see if we can identify wizards, Death Eaters in particular, among them. I assume that you are aware of this, and yet did not see fit to share this information with me."

Albus sighed. He hated it when Severus got like this, especially when he had a point.

"Severus, don't make such assumptions. I did happen to be at the Ministry on Hogwarts business the other day, and stopped to say hello my old friend Amelia Bones. I happened to arrive shortly after the muggle Prime Minister had given the Minister some information about these increasingly aggressive groups of muggles. I will tell you all that I know, right now," he offered, placatingly.

Severus was clearly still annoyed, but he was listening. He stopped pacing, at least, and was looking at the Headmaster more than glaring. Albus took this as a good sign, and proceeded.

"I had the chance to read through the reports and look at the photographs that she'd been given. I pointed out one person in several photographs who was clearly Vernon Dursley," Albus began, as Severus' eyes narrowed in interest. "And we think that Cornelius Fudge has surfaced, now using the name of Charles Frost. At least, there was someone who looks just like him, if you factor out Charles' snow white hair." Severus' eyebrows rose dramatically at that news.

With a chuckle, encouraged that he had captured Severus' interest, Albus proceeded. "Even more interesting than the sudden reappearance of our missing former Minister of Magic was something I found in the reports. I saw the name "Riddle" appear a number of times. I am also rather certain that some of the men identified as Riddles are really McNairs or Parkinsons; at least they look like some young men of those families who attended Hogwarts years ago. The Aurors are trying to determine if any other Death Eaters are involved."

Severus was now standing stock still, looking at Albus as if he's just sprouted a second head. "Do you honestly believe that Cornelius Fudge is collaborating with Death Eaters, or even more ridiculous, with the Dark Lord himself, Albus?" he spat out, disbelief clear in his voice.

"Ah, no, actually," Albus had to agree. "I suspect neither is aware of the other's involvement." The old man leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers over his chest, a small smile forming on his lips. "I am aware of Cornelius' fear of Voldemort – I truly do not believe he'd have gone anywhere near those muggle groups if he thought the Death Eaters were involved. And I can't imagine that Voldemort would have encouraged his minions to invite Fudge to participate. The Ministry is trying to come up with some sort of timeline for when Charles Frost came on the scene. It might have been as recently as a week or so ago. He seems to have been a catalyst for the groups collaborating, and the rhetoric has become more aggressive. Very much Cornelius' style. Once we know who to look for in terms of possible Death Eaters, which is apparently the process of which you have become aware, I expect the Aurors will try to determine when they got involved. I do suspect they were involved all along, or much longer at least, and that Cornelius is a recent arrival."

Severus' expression had moderated from total disbelief to confusion. Albus decided to keep going, as confusion when confronted with these facts was to be expected.

"The aspect of this that puzzles me, and makes me wonder if we are wrong about our suspicions, is the absence of a clear purpose for Fudge in this activity. I would concede that Voldemort might see this as a chance to destabilize both the muggle and magical governments, maybe generate muggle attacks against us. But Fudge? Even if we factor the involvement of anyone aligned with Voldemort out of this, what does he think to gain from this?" Albus mused, shaking his head.

Severus finally took the offered seat. After a moment's reflection, he nodded at the older man. "Most disquieting. I remain astonished that the Dark Lord would wish to collaborate with muggles in any way, for any purpose. If Death Eaters are involved, they must be the ones who have returned to the Dark Lord's side. I would assume that they are those most aligned with his vision, making them unlikely to wish to join with muggles. Why would they have been ordered to do this? To what end? And Fudge? If he was fortunate enough to escape from the Ministry once, I would have assumed that we'd never see him again. None of this makes any sense."

He leaned back in his chair, a scowl darkening his features.

Severus was just passing the vestibule in front of the Ministry's Annex office heading back to the dungeons to prepare for dinner when Kingsley was returning from his meeting with the Minister. On impulse, he approached the Ministry representative.

"Shacklebolt, I understand that the Aurors are attempting to identify Death Eaters among those in muggle photographs of the anti-magic meetings. If you would care to arrange an invitation for me to visit the Ministry on this matter, I think I might be of assistance, as it has been my misfortune to know many of them personally."

"Thank you, Professor," Kingsley replied, visibly surprised at the offer. "Miss Granger alerted me to that project. She thought that some of my records of our joint efforts to assist those seriously debilitated when You-Know-Who sent us all to sleep might help. I did take a look at the pictures and I shared my notes of the names we gathered. But of course, the people I met were mostly ones happy to be free of that affiliation, especially when you all removed their Marks, so I wasn't able to be of much use to them. Your offer is most generous, and, if I may say so, very brave. I will let them know of your willingness to assist."

Severus nodded curtly, as he turned on his heels and continued on to the dungeons.

Later at supper, Severus' eyes sought out Harry, ensconced with his Gryffindor friends a way down the long table. He'd hoped to have a chance to speak to Harry back in their rooms, but if Harry was studying (or doing whatever Gryffindors did when they said they were studying) in their common room, he often came to supper with his friends directly without stopping in the dungeons first. They looked quite engaged in their conversation down there.

Hermione was regaling her friends with the story of her visit to the Aurors office, mainly with the few details she'd gotten from Piers about the anti-wizard movement and suspected wizard involvement.

"Harry, have you heard anything about this from the muggles when you've gone to do one of those messages with the muggle princes?" Ron asked. Harry was the only wizard he knew who had any contact with things going on in the muggle world outside of what was reported in the Daily Prophet.

"No, nothing. We haven't even taped a new message in weeks now," he answered, although Hermione was eyeing him closely. "The articles about the muggle gatherings are about it right now. I never heard anything about wizards involved in that."

"Not just any wizards, actually," Hermione continued. "The Ministry suspects that Death Eaters are involved."

Ron looked incredulous. "That's mad, Mione! What on earth would Death Eaters, of all people, be doing mingling with muggles?"

All Hermione could do was shrug. Harry was thinking that he needed to speak to Severus about this. If the Ministry was looking for Death Eaters, he might recognize some faces in those photographs.

The group was nearly finished with their puddings when a large brown owl swooped down from the opening in the ceiling and dropped an envelope into Hermione's plate. It was sealed with the blobs of red wax that communications from the Ministry usually had. In typical Hermione fashion, she matter-of-factly fished the letter from her plate, wiped the bits of pudding from it, and opened it. A smile quickly broke across her face.

"Oh, my – excellent news! I was concerned that the Aurors had made no progress in identifying the person who attacked Professor Snape at the Ministry, and it appears that Kingsley Shacklebolt mentioned this to the Minister of Magic. They've made that investigation a priority. This is fantastic."

Neville and Seamus exchanged a look and a shrug. Sometimes, the conversations around the Gryffindor table veered so quickly it was difficult to keep up. Harry and Ron weren't entirely sure what that had to do with anything, either, but they would never question Hermione's quirky pursuits. They'd paid off far too often for that.

When Harry finally returned to the dungeons that evening, he found Severus pacing nervously in front of the fireplace.

"Is everything alright, Severus?" Harry asked with concern. This was not typical Severus behavior in their rooms; pacing was usually reserved for the Headmaster's Office or classrooms.

For his part, Severus looked uncommonly ill at ease. "I am fine, thank you for asking," he replied. "I am expecting guests. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Auror Stark will be here shortly. I offered to assist them in a Ministry matter," Severus continued, not entirely sure how Harry would react to his participation in this investigation.

Harry thought he knew what was going on. "Hermione was telling us about the pictures the Aurors got from the muggles, and the Aurors were trying to figure out if wizards are behind those anti-wizard activities. Is that what you offered to assist with?" he ventured.

Caught out, Severus nodded. "When I heard that the Ministry suspects that there are Death Eaters behind the anti-wizard movement, I realized that there are only a few of us who might be willing to acknowledge having any detailed information about who signed up for that agenda. Shacklebolt told me that he had shared what he knew about Death Eaters based on the ones he helped us gather to recover at Malfoy Manor last year, but he didn't recognize many. Not surprisingly, many of the ones firmly aligned with the Dark Lord were not interested in Lucius' renewed offer of hospitality. I don't know if these are more recent recruits – I don't expect to recognize that lot, of course."

Harry was bursting with pride at Severus' gesture, and it showed on his face. He slowly walked over to his bondmate, and chastely hugged him about the middle. "This is fantastic, Severus, thank you." With a final squeeze, he released the man and stepped back. "When do you expect your guests?"

"Any minute now. I'd offered to go to the Ministry," news that made Harry wince, thinking of some of the unpleasant encounters he'd had there recently, "but Shacklebolt and Stark offered to bring the pictures here to me, tonight."

Just moments later, a knock on the door signaled the arrival of their guests. Severus went to admit them, giving Harry the option of disappearing into their bedroom or the library, if he did not wish to be involved. Not surprisingly, Harry was standing right behind him when he opened the door.

After rather stilted greetings, as Stark in particular was not entirely sure how to approach Harry's role here, Severus took an offered stack of papers and directed the group to chairs and sofa in front of the fireplace. He recalled Albus' comment about one of the muggles being Vernon Dursley and did not want Harry to find that out by looking over his shoulder. He stood leaning against his desk.

"Actually, we have some additional information, now. We have the photographs, and we have the muggle's surveillance reports of the meetings, but Lord Malfoy just brought the Minister some information that he procured about some recent weapons purchases from Eastmans. I have that here, as well," Stark shared.

Severus and Harry shared a look at that. Malfoy could have provided the exact same assistance that Severus had offered. Lucius had gone so far to bring other information to the Minister, but he stopped short of offering to provide this much-needed help. This was exactly what Severus would have expected of Lucius, although it was clear to him that Harry was disappointed.

Severus' first priority was the pictures. He sat at his desk and directed a lumos charm over it to enhance his ability to study the photographs. He picked up the pile, and studied each photograph carefully before putting it at the bottom of the stack. His face clouded several times as he worked his way along. "I will circle the faces I believe I recognize, and note in the margin the name by which I have known them. Will that be acceptable?" he asked.

To the nods that greeted that idea, he readied a quill and ink and then sat for several minutes, circling faces here and there, writing names where he could provide that detail. There were about a dozen individuals known to Severus as Death Eaters in the pictures, never more than two at any one meeting, and quite a few of the pictures had no faces familiar to him. He was aware of, but ignored, Harry chatting quietly with the two Ministry representatives as he went through the photos.

When Severus was done, he looked up. Stark had been watching him closely, with interest. It was clear that the Professor knew quite a few of the people in those muggle photographs. Apparently the suspicion about the involvement Death Eaters was well-founded. Stark spoke first.

"Professor, the information from Lord Malfoy indicates where the shipments of weaponry were sent, and the names to whom the shipments were directed. Might you take a look at this, as well?" he asked, as he handed over the material gotten from Lucius.

Severus accepted the offered documents, and rifled through them. He was impressed, as he always was, with what Lucius was able to gather. "I am quite confident of the names I provided, Auror Stark, but might be able to offer some additional information based on the locations identified here." It turned out that the material from Lucius confirmed Severus' identifications. Several addresses to which weapons were shipped were the addresses of the homes of some of the Death Eaters, places to which Severus had been on occasion. A few pointed to business interests of Death Eaters, and others were presumably to storage places procured for the purpose of receiving the weapons. Severus added notes, in his precise, neat hand, to connect the Eastmans shipments to locations associated with individuals, whether residences or businesses.

When Severus was finished, he casually but very intentionally stacked the Eastmans invoices on top of the photographs and returned to the group seated near the fireplace. He handed the lot over to Stark.

"I recognized several of the addresses to which shipments were directed – a few are the homes of Death Eaters, and others are their business addresses. There are several addresses I don't recognize. It is possible that those are warehouses procured for the purpose of receiving and holding these purchases. Of course, if there are recent recruits in here, I won't recognize them," he added, a bit of regret in his voice.

Stark and Shackelbolt stood, warmly thanking Harry for his hospitality and perhaps a bit less warmly and definitely more warily, thanking Severus for his assistance.

After their guests had left, Harry took the seat at one end of the couch, studying Severus' face as he sat at the other end. Severus was frowning as he stared into the flickering light of the fire, almost as if he was lost in his own thoughts. Harry wanted to ask a question, but instead allowed his hand to move forward along the back of the couch until it touched Severus' hand, resting there already.

The two sat quietly and companionably, their only point of contact Harry's fingers gently intertwining with Severus, for several long moments, until Harry broke the moment and gave voice to his question. "Who did you see in those photographs that upset you so, Severus? I could tell – the look on your face changed at one point. Who was it?"

There was something about the way Harry asked that question, or probably more in the expression that was on his face when he asked it, that caused Severus to realize that Harry likely knew the answer to his question. This was another one of those moments that drove home to Severus how wrong, how very wrong, he'd been about Harry Potter all those years. He knew his own uncle, to whose family Harry had shown great compassion in bringing them to Hogwarts, was a part of the anti-wizard movement.

Rather than answer, Severus heaved a deep, loud sigh, and he moved to stand up. Harry's hand tightened its grip on his wrist and held the larger man in place.

"No, Severus, we will speak here, now. I assume you saw someone that both you and I know in those photographs, and I'd wager a knut it was Uncle Vernon. Am I right?" Harry actually harbored an inner fear that Severus would tell him that he'd seen his aunt in there as well, and was relieved when Severus finally nodded.

Harry sagged just a tiny bit, and patted Severus hand as he considered his words. "I would have been surprised, actually, if Uncle Vernon had not found his way to one of those anti-wizard organizations. It's hard to even say I'm disappointed, because that's his nature. But, you know, Severus, I told you this over the summer – I don't care about him. My path has veered away from his, I can tell. And I feel nothing toward him. This is nothing for you to be concerned about. He's just another bigoted muggle, nothing more. Really."

Harry hated to see Severus distressed, especially over his worthless muggle uncle. They sat for several more minutes, Severus collecting his emotions, and Harry gently stroking and squeezing his hand, trying to give him the comfort Harry had always gotten from his touch.

X X X X X X X X X

The next morning, the Minister dispatched an owl to Lucius Malfoy, and asked that he stop by to see her at her office at his earliest opportunity.

Lucius smiled at the request – this was more like it!

He waited a few minutes, lest he appear overeager, before sauntering down the halls of the Ministry to her office. He noted with a sneer that he was waved through by her minions this time, no one chasing after him as they'd done yesterday. The Minister herself looked up with a smile when he entered her office.

"Oh, thank you for coming so quickly, Lucius," she began, the smile never leaving her face. "Just yesterday, I learned of a matter that the Aurors are working on, but frankly, I suspect that you have resources more suited to this particular inquiry than their skills."

Her visitor preened at the flattery, she noticed. It probably would not do to lay it on too thick right now, but that was useful information for the future.

"We have made minimal progress at unraveling the question of the identity and affiliation of the man who attempted to murder Severus Snape last summer here at the Ministry," she began. "We believe he was a mercenary, and I am told that some suspect that he was in the employ of the Rakshashas of India. We believe he spent some time in India, as well, although he appeared to be of different ancestry, maybe central European. We wish to know his name, his background, and given Mr. Potter's involvement, I think it would be very useful to learn of his magical history – any unusual or unique magical powers or skills of his own or in his family. The Aurors are busy with a number of priorities, and this has not advanced as I'd hoped. It occurred to me, in the wake of our conversation yesterday, that this might be a project better handed over to you, given your very unique resources. Can you help us?"

Lucius' mind was already working on which of his contacts could most quickly cut through that matter. "Of course, Amelia. As I said, I am at your service," he agreed immediately. "I have several contacts who are particularly good at things like this. I will need some details about the man in question, and a personal possession, his wand perhaps?"

He was thinking of Madam Bunswil, a woman who had been a frequent guest at his parents' dinner parties years ago. Lucius' father frequently asked her to assess the people with whom he was contemplating doing business, and he valued her input very highly. Lucius quickly calculated that she must be close to 200 years old now, but he'd heard of her helping someone out in this way (always for a fee, of course) not that long ago.

Madam Bunswil had frightened him as a child to the extent that he actually felt his flesh crawl even all these many years later as he thought about being in her presence again. She was a very ugly woman who disdained any sort of magical enhancement of her haggish appearance, not even to disguise her animal-like eyes. They were her most memorable feature, and not in a good way. She had no visible whites to her eyes – like a dog's, they were solid black. She had a way of looking at you - well, it was better be employ her to provide her services than to be on the receiving end of an appraising stare from those black, menacing, other-worldly eyes.

Amelia brought Lucius back to the present. "I will ask Auror Stark to come by your office in an hour or so with the details we have been able to gather, and the man's wand. Actually, I believe we have his body in stasis, as no one stepped forward to claim it, should your contact have need of that."

Lucius really did not want to think about that, but who knew what Madam Bunswil would require? He nodded his agreement, and stood. "I shall await the arrival of Auror Stark, then, Amelia," he said as he swept from the Minister's office.

What Lucius did want to think about, and where he directed his thoughts as he waited, was the fact that this was an undertaking to deliver information that might help Harry Potter himself. Lucius had heard the whispers, that he seemed to have some ability to pick up bits of magic from others. If this dead assassin had some rare or unusual bit of magic, it might be very meaningful and important for Harry to know of it, and how exceptional if it was Lucius Malfoy himself who presented Harry with this critical piece of information!

X X X X X X X X X X

Petunia had been terrified by the arrival of a big barn owl, which flew right into her kitchen! She immediately ran into the front hall, slamming the door behind her, hoping that the wild creature would find its way out just as it found its way in.

She sat in the lounge for a few minutes, in a chair right in front of the window, watching the sky and attempting to get her pounding heart rate back to normal. When she was suitably calm, she quietly snuck back to the kitchen and cracked the door open. To her horror, the owl had made itself at home, sitting on her formerly-pristine kitchen table, nibbling on the sandwich she had made for her own lunch. There were bits of toast and half-eaten bacon scattered across the table, along with discarded slices of tomato and lettuce leaves.

As Petunia drew in a breath to scream (she'd certainly feel better, and maybe the noise would scare the infernal creature into going back where it belonged), she noticed that there was a large vellum envelope sitting on the table right next to the bird. Momentarily distracted, she let out the breath and tried to make out what was written on the envelope. The owl just looked at her and made no move to fly away as she inched into the kitchen and closer to the table. Even from a distance, she was reasonably sure that was her own name in very elegant script across the front.

The owl, having finished what he saw as his reward for a well-delivered letter and finding nothing interesting in this woman's odd behavior, simply took flight and found its way out of the room. Petunia stood with her back pressed against her stove, almost afraid to move, lest the bird return. When she felt it was safe to assume that it was well and truly gone, she proceeded to inch her way toward the table, and gingerly reached out to the envelope, as if afraid it would somehow attack her.

She inspected the letter for any signs that it had gone through the post, but found no stamps, return address or other evidence of normal delivery. It was the bloody bird then that brought this. But the handwriting was so elegant! And the paper from which the envelope was crafted was so rich and heavy, and it was sealed with beautiful, creamy sealing wax. She once received an invitation to a very fancy (and expensive) wedding on paper like this. Intrigued in spite of herself, she turned the envelope over and carefully opened the flap.

Petunia extracted the sheet of equally rich and heavy parchment that was contained in the envelope, and unfolded it.

To her great surprise, it was a chatty note from Amaranth Savoy, hoping that Petunia was well and settled back at her home, and reporting on the fact that Amaranth and her family, all doing well, were still staying at Hogwarts, hoping that things would settle down soon so they could get back to their home. It went on, as Amaranth herself was prone to do, about all manner on inconsequential nothings, including some fond reminiscences of their times together over the summer.

Petunia's initial reaction was to tear the letter to shreds, burn it in the grate, and pretend this never happened. But she couldn't bring herself to do that. She read the letter through twice, noting the postscript at the bottom:

The owl is Chester and he'll stay in a tree in your garden for a day. You can write back by calling him to you, allowing him to take your letter in his beak, and telling him who to deliver it to. He'll know what to do from there.

Petunia heaved a sigh as she cleaned up the mess on her kitchen table, and made herself another sandwich and cup of tea to enjoy out in the back garden. She tucked the letter into her apron, planning to ignore it. The letter was still there as she washed up her dishes from lunch, and finished some of her tidying-up around the house. She was about to start getting supper ready for Vernon when she got a call from his assistant, Miss Enderlee, informing her that Mr. Dursley was called to an important meeting out-of-town with Mr. Mason and Mr. Riddle and would not be returning home for supper.

That was the third night this week that he accepted an invitation to join those two at one of their anti-magic rallies, and she was getting peeved. Not that Vernon was such a great conversationalist, but she was getting lonely being left by herself every night!

As she fixed a (much smaller) meal just for herself, she decided to take advantage of a warmer-than-usual evening and went back into her garden to eat it. She felt the envelope in her apron pocket, and pulled it out to read it again.

Vernon didn't need to know about this, did he? She needed someone to talk to, just as he had his Mr. Mason and Mr. Riddle. And Amaranth had been such a lovely young woman, after all. After dinner, Petunia sat down at her kitchen table, with one of her nicest note cards and the good fountain pen she'd gotten when she graduated from school, and wrote a reply. After a moment's hesitation, she simply wrote "Mrs. Amaranth Savoy, Hogwarts" on it, and sealed the envelope. She walked into her garden, and without even having to say the bird's name, he was already perched on the back of one of the garden chairs. As she offered her note to the bird and he took it in his beak, she softly said "Amaranth Savoy." The bird seemed to nod in understanding, and took off.

"I must be daft," Petunia muttered, as she went back into her kitchen.

She made sure to stash Amaranth's letter in the travel case where the galleons from Harry were stored. Where no one would ever look. Just in case.

[A/N: Reviews, anyone? Please?]


	50. Ch 127 Planning Operation Magic Castle

Chapter 127 – Planning Operation Magic Castle

Lucius Malfoy was pleased that Madam Bunswil acknowledged his request for a meeting so quickly, although the dread of seeing her again spiked as he realized that event would now occur in hours, not days. He had gotten the packet of information from Auror Stark, confirming that no progress had been made at all in the Auror's investigation beyond gathering basic forensic information from the body. He also had the dead man's wand.

The connection of the would-be assassin to the ruling family in India was curious finding, although the report that discussed the traces of pollen and such on the man's clothes seemed rather cut and dried. It seemed odd that the Aurors pursued that one detail, when they did so little in other areas. Lucius certainly never harbored any desire to be an Auror, but he did spend a moment idly pondering what the next step in an investigation like this would be were he in such a job. The role of an Auror was far too constrained; he had options they did not, and he could not fathom having to do this without his special resources.

That brought him back to his appointment with Madam Bunswil at her London town home. She'd told him that her floo would be open to him at 4 that afternoon, should he wish to step through for tea. It was nearly 4 now. Lucius gave his carefully-combed hair a final pat and adjusted his robe for the third time, and as the antique muggle clock chimed to signal the hour, he threw down floo powder and stepped into the grate in his office.

Lucius had never been to Madam Bunswil's home, he realized. He'd seen her many times, but always at Malfoy Manor. He stepped into her parlor, a large and well-lit space decorated in shades of cream and gold, with touches of deep crimson and dark green. The furniture was obviously antique, the appointments exquisite and the carpets the finest Persians.

Somehow, he'd been expecting something more severe, plainer and definitely darker. This looked like the apartments kept by some of the dowagers in the Malfoy family, not the home of someone like the frightening woman he recalled as Madam Bunswil. He self-consciously stepped over to a large display cabinet for a closer look at some of the items it housed.

His hostess was awaiting his arrival, but felt it was important for him to have a moment alone in her drawing room before she joined him. She preferred to receive clients in her home nowadays, and in fact had furnished the public areas very intentionally to create an impression of old money and great opulence. Her arrival was always at least one minute, never more than two, after they stepped through her floo. She had no desire to be rude, but wanted them in the correct frame of mind when she joined them.

When the requisite seconds had passed, the old woman drew her silk shawl closer across her shoulders and hobbled into the parlor. She was a curious blend of Grand Dame and Bohemian seer. Her bearing was regal and her jewels magnificent in a very traditional way, but her hair, now all grey, was long and loose and she covered her brocade gown with a silk shawl rather than traditional wizard robes. She was pleased to see her guest studying some of her trinkets.

"Ah, young Master Malfoy, although with the passage of time, it's Lord Malfoy now, isn't it?" she began, intent on creating an intimacy of shared history. "It has been too many years. How are you, my boy?"

Lucius turned with very uncharacteristic ill grace, clenching and unclenching his fists at his side, as he struggled to maintain his cool composure. He managed an arrogant smile as he bowed slightly, stealing the briefest possible glance at his hostess' face. "Madam Bunswil – I would recognize you immediately, it is as if no time as passed at all!" he replied. "I am well, as is my family."

She caught the glance, and smiled inwardly. "I am no longer as . . . active as I was when last we met, but I expect that I will be able to provide you with the information you require, young man. Have a seat," she offered, pointing toward a sofa set to the side of the room, "and we can discuss the situation about which you contacted me."

Happy for something to do to ease his very uncharacteristic discomfort, Lucius strode purposefully over to the sofa and took his seat, extracting the packet of information and wand he'd gotten from the Aurors. When Madam Bunswill had settled herself on a nearby chair, he began.

"I was asked by the Minister of Magic to assist the Aurors on a matter that has thus far eluded them. You no doubt have heard of the attempt on the life of Severus Snape at the Ministry on the afternoon that he was invested with his Order of Merlin, First Class?" Lucius didn't actually break to see if she nodded, as he was keeping his eyes on the packet of information in his hands. After a second or two, he resumed. "The Aurors have made almost no progress in identifying the would-be assassin, and I believe that Harry Potter has now expressed concern, leading the Minister herself to ask me to assist. I have the Ministry's preliminary assessment of his remains. I understand that there is some suspicion that he was in the employ of the Rakshashas of India, and there is some evidence that the man was in India at some point. And I have his wand."

Lucius stole a quick glance at Madam Bunswill's chin, avoiding the eyes at all costs, and reached out to pass the parchments and wand over to her.

Madam Bunswill put the parchments on a nearby table, but fingered the wand in her gnarled, bony hands for a long moment, murmuring softly as she did so.

This was, indeed, the wand of someone with distinctive magic, maybe even some unique magical abilities. Definitely not from India – no one from that part of the world had magic that worked like this. Nothing Asian here, either. European, for sure. Not from anywhere near the Mediterranean Sea, no, the magic down there had a unique twinge to it. Central, most likely. Romanian, maybe Transylvanian, or perhaps Hungarian? There were some families from that part of the world that had been known to have unusual magic. Likely the man in question was from that area. But there was something else – something in there she would swear come from Scotland, a small bit of magic. Curious, but not likely linked to his identity or place of origin.

She looked up at her guest, and noticed his new tactic – he was studying her chin to avoid looking at her eyes. It was time to talk business.

"What do you wish to know, Lord Malfoy? His name? His ancestry?" she asked bluntly.

"I believe we need that, and anything of interest or note about his magic."

Madam Bunswil nodded. "I see." The man's wand alone had already enabled her to narrow this search down significantly, and to a part of the world with which she was familiar and where she had a strong network of contacts. It was actually surprising that the Aurors hadn't resolved this on their own. The only possible challenge was if this was needed immediately, or if that one bit of magic from Scotland was a key element of identifying him. "How quickly do you require this information, my dear?" she asked.

Lucius had thought about the time aspect of this, but he wasn't sure himself. "I would like to report back as soon as I can, I would hope within a week, if that's possible."

She shook her head. "It ought not be a problem, at all. I will review your material here, study the wand a bit more closely, and dispatch an owl or two. I will have a better understanding of the time this will take by tomorrow, and I will owl you then. It is possible that I can provide you with what you require in a day or two, but I might need a bit more time."

Madam Bunswil noticed that Lucius looked relieved at the news. His father had always been very taken by titles and rank, and no doubt the son was as well. Lucius had made something of a stunning move toward respectability, joining the Wizengamot. No doubt, this was the first time the Minister asked him to assist the Ministry in this way, and he wanted to impress her.

Lucius smiled tightly, but raised his eyes only to the tip of Madam Bunswil's nose. "And your fee. We must establish that," he noted.

The old woman sighed. "My vault at Gringotts has as much gold as I'm likely to need for the rest of my days, and I've bought all the furniture, and rugs and baubles I can fit in here. You have made a very simple request, Lord Malfoy, not likely to involve much of my time or resources. I require no fee for this. I would ask that you cover any expenses that might be necessarily incurred, if there are any, and that I be among those invited to your daughter's christening!"

Lucius felt a jolt of unease. He was relying on this woman, a woman known for knowing things. It concerned him that she did not seem to know that he had a son, not a daughter, a young man old enough to have recently become married himself. He hoped this wasn't the first sign of mental deterioration or confusion, and resolved to doublecheck whatever information she provided to him, just in case.

"Thank you, Madam Bunswil," he said. "This is most generous of you. Please let me know if you incur any expenses, and we will definitely include you in an event at the Manor soon." Maybe she missed the social scene? Possibly an invitation to something with the Minister would please her? He'd speak to Narcissa about this.

When Lucius had taken his leave, the old woman took the parchments and wand she'd gotten from him over to a desk, and cast a lumos charm to provide light. Madam Bunswil had a smile on her face, and quite a twinkle in her hazel eyes.

She'd cast that spell on Lucius, causing him to see frightening black eyes, when he was not much more than four or five years old. He'd been an annoying brat, and at that time, she still needed the fees she collected from his father and others like him. The cruel little boy and his cousin loved to taunt her about her ugly appearance, which she found distracting and upsetting. She feared her loss of focus might cause her work to suffer, and her clients to discontinue using her services. She cast a spell that caused the boys to see her with solid black eyes. It had the desired effect then – the boys were terrified. They were loath to be in her presence, kept their own eyes averted from hers, and suddenly became very polite. The parents noticed their sons' change of attitude, which actually increased their perception of her insights. It allowed her to continue her work with the parents, certainly to her financial advantage, and presumably her insights and information advantaged them, as well.

How amazing that the little bit of magic she'd cast all those years ago was still in place! It never occurred to her that the boys would see her with those awful black eyes past their teens. She was secretly quite pleased with herself about this.

After just a half an hour reviewing the Ministry notes, which confirmed her first impressions after touching the wand, and some further careful assessment of the magic retained in the wand, she was very confident that this was the wand of a member of a particular clan that had lived for centuries in the Carpathian Mountains. Before she stirred herself to prepare for an early supper, she'd penned two notes to old friends in that area, and saw them on their way via owl. She still had to puzzle out that little bit that absolutely had a Scottish flavor, but that was unlikely to take too much effort.

She might have the answers Lucius required by tomorrow.

X X X X X X X X X X

Vernon Dursley was having a very good week.

Over breakfast just this past Monday morning, Petunia had expressed concern that his employers at Grunnings might not be pleased with all the time he was spending out of the office these days. Even Miss Enderlee had cast a disapproving look at him when he left the office right after lunch yesterday. Those women just didn't understand the way of things.

One of the men who had taken up with the anti-wizard group, Sir Harold Beckwith, was a very (VERY) wealthy industrialist from Nottingham. It turned out that he owned a number of manufacturing plants that used drills. Lots of drills, the big ones. Over supper last night, right before yet another rally, he'd signed a contract with Vernon for Grunnings to supply his firm with drills for the next ten years. It was the biggest contract ever awarded to Grunnings. Far from becoming a pariah at the office because of all the time he was spending elsewhere, he was now the hero. His bonus this year was going to be the biggest ever paid by the firm. He was already thinking of the things he'd be buying once all that money was his!

And that wasn't the end of it. Quite a few of the gentlemen he'd met through this endeavor had businesses. He'd mentioned his Grunnings connection to them. Sir Harold was something of a celebrity, and when Vernon let it slip that he and Sir Harold had signed a contract, he knew that the others would be queuing to sign soon, too.

Sir Harold was also a driving leader, and one with a very short fuse. He'd started attending more of the rallies over the last several weeks, and had begun joining the strategy sessions that Vernon, Charles Frost and Reggie Mason usually held after the meetings with one or another of the Riddle cousins. Sir Harold had challenged Charles Frost to accelerate plans to attack the wizard stronghold.

Charles had gotten people focused on doing something about that awful castle in Scotland where they were all holed up, but he was proving himself to be very cautious in how to go about this. Curiously, the Riddles, who didn't seem like the sharpest group, seemed to agree with him about this. They were worried about what sort of weapons would be effective against people with magic, and even suggested that British weaponry might not be able to inflict damage!

Sir Harold was losing patience, and the strategy session tonight was getting heated.

"I've got an arsenal, I tell you, an arsenal!" Sir Harold said with emotion. He wasn't used to not having others agree with him immediately. "Not just guns and enough ammunition to take out the inhabitants of a castle three times over, but tanks, and cannon! I even have five Apache helicopters! I can reduce the place to a heap of stones in a few hours! I can fully equip an army right this very minute. Frost, all you have to do is give us directions to this place, and we'll get volunteers assembled. I have people on retainer who can whip them into a credible fighting force in a week, and we'll take the wizards on."

Charles looked a bit ill at ease, but he stroked his chin a moment, and finally nodded at Sir Harold. "I harbor strong reservations about the plan, but will not stand in your way, Sir Harold. If you wish to assemble your force and prepare it for battle, I will make myself available to assist you in locating the castle. They've got it well hidden, but if you know where it is and what to look for, you'll be able to see it."

Sir Harold slammed his fist on the table with glee. "A round of the finest whiskey, gentlemen! Action! Nothing like it!" he crowed.

Vernon beamed. He had concluded that Frost was a good man, decisive and thoughtful, but cautious, too. A good blend. And now Vernon was a central part of something very significant here, and he was very proud to know these men.

Inwardly, Cornelius Fudge sighed. Let that fool Sir Harold arm and train a band of muggles. They were all expendable, after all, and they would be expended, or at least totally ineffective, of that he was sure. If anything, Sir Harold's rashness played into his plans. He had expressed his reservations in vague terms, mostly along the lines of not knowing how magic would impact a typical muggle battle plan. Of course, he knew that spells would disable most of the weapons immediately, the wards of the castle would prevent any of this force from approaching too close, and who knew what else the wizards would come up with? This was not going to accomplish anything.

That Sir Harold had no chance of succeeding was a foregone conclusion; the only question was, at what price would this loss come? Would it be a bloodbath, or would the muggles be shown to be totally ineffective and just sent packing? That was really the only question.

He'd stand back, and "learn" from watching the debacle. He'd then be in an even better position to guide the remaining muggles toward an attack plan that actually stood a chance against a wizard fortress.

He looked around the table at his companions. Sir Harold was a lost cause. The Dursley man was a spineless toad, but he seemed to have adopted Cornelius as his leader now, which was good, because that Reggie Mason seemed quite out of his league if anything more than organizing a rally was needed. Then he looked at Hiram Riddle, one of the group of cousins.

The Riddles seemed to be a reasonable bunch, if not the brightest. They accepted his cautions about the possible impact of magic on a traditional muggle assault. They had agreed with him about the possibility of needing very different weaponry. A few of them even told him that they'd found some sources of old-fashioned weapons, and had made a few discreet purchases that would be available to the muggles if Sir Harold's plans did not work. Good men!

X X X X X X X X X X

The very same Hiram "Riddle" was back in Little Hangleton later that evening, reporting to his Dark Lord.

"Despite our best efforts, my Lord, there is one muggle quite intent on leading a traditional muggle assault on Hogwarts. Charles Frost advocated against such hasty action, maintaining, as I had suggested to him, that they needed a better understanding of magic and how it might effect muggle weapons before taking such a step. I supported Frost, of course, as I don't want attention on me. But there's one muggle in the group, a Sir Harold Beckwith, who is waiting for nothing and accepting no counsel but his own," Hiram ventured, sitting at the long wooden table and nervously wringing his hands.

The worst part was not being able to predict how the Dark Lord would take news that might, or might not, be what he wanted to hear.

Hiram released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when a smile came over the snake-like face of his Lord.

"They're all just muggles, and foolish ones at that," Voldemort hissed. "It will be our entertainment, then, to watch the fools try to mount an assault on a magical castle with their muggle weapons. They'll have no impact." The room rang briefly with Voldemort's breathy laughter. He grew silent as quickly as he'd begun to laugh, as he continued. "I wonder how the Ministry will handle this, given that it's Hogwarts and not a Ministry location. They might even create more trouble for themselves if they overreact. Well done, Hiram."

Not to be outdone, others around the table offered up their own stories of the groups they were influencing, and the progress they were making.

It finally occurred to Voldemort that more than a few of his followers had taken the same surname, Riddle.

"And, my friends, is there no question about the fact that so many of you share a surname?" he asked. Despite his words, there was no friendship in his voice.

Hiram jumped in first. "No, my Lord, we have told them that we are cousins. Most of the muggles have only met two or three of us, so they are quite accepting that we know one another through our families. We are generally referred to by the muggles as the Riddle cousins."

Voldemort lifted his head back and roared in laughter at the ease with which his Death Eaters had duped the muggles.

At the same time, Sir Harold Beckwith was meeting with his team of retainers at his country estate in Scotland. They were making final arrangements to recruit men for this paramilitary endeavor, planning for their training and for the eventual attack. The estate was in a very isolated area, and Sir Harold had been stockpiling all manner of ordnance there for years, always fearing some conspiracy or other that would threaten his far-flung businesses. Sir Harold liked to be prepared, as he was wont to repeat to anyone who would listen.

Tonight, his military advisor was leading the discussion. Sir Harold had hired the Brigadier upon his retirement from active duty with the Royal Marines to help him maintain his military readiness. The Brigadier had initially been wary of the offer to head up what was essentially a private army, and he declined. Sir Harold was not used to hearing "no" and he redoubled his efforts to lure the man. The amount of money offered, as well as the idyllic rural location of "the Armory," were what eventually won him over. He'd also been very impressed with his new employer's stockpile of weapons, some of which were not even available to the average member of the Royal Marines. After a month or two spent becoming familiar with the weapons on hand, and setting up protocols to assure that fresh ammunition was available, the Brigadier had the Armory in a state of complete readiness. Most of the Brigadier's time since then (aside from the time he spent in a magic-induced sleep in the Armory's basement) had been spent making the acquaintance of the local fishing streams, the one thing he'd really missed while on active duty. He saw tonight's meeting as a welcome break from the quiet life in the country.

"Alright, then, laddies, if our target is a castle in a remote part of Scotland, we'll need some heavy artillery, and it takes time to train someone who's never handled that. Same with the tanks – it's not like taking the family Rover out for a spin, now is it? And we have helicopters, but no way those go up without qualified pilots." The Brigadier looked at the others around the table, waiting for someone to suggest how to fill the specialist roles that clearly needed to be filled for this endeavor to get off the ground, let alone succeed.

A nervous-looking type, who looked more like an accountant, really, spoke up. "I have contacts – I know where we can hire pilots qualified on the Apaches. Tank commanders and artillerymen, I'm not so sure."

Another nodded, and added "Sir Harold, these people you're talkin' to, might any be retired military? We can at least make use of what the Royal Marine's already taught 'em, if we can find 'em."

Before Sir Harold spoke, the Brigadier added "If we can find us some raw recruits, I can get them able to handle basic arms, and function as a unit – need just a week to do that. But the technical skills, to handle the big guns, the tanks, that lot, no, we don't have the time. And if we build a battle plan that assumes we'll have tanks and artillery at our disposal, we need to be able to rely on them."

Sir Harold was thrilled to be planning a military operation. He'd dreamt of leading an army some day, and that day was so close at hand. "Not to worry, Brigadier." To the one who looked like an accountant, he said "Use your contacts, and get us five pilots for the Apaches. Pay what you must. We'll need them."

To the rest of the table, he went on. "The men who have approached me thus far would qualify mostly as raw recruits; I'd be shocked if any of them had any military service at all. But there are dozens of them, and they couldn't be more committed to the cause. Brigadier, we'll need you to get them trained and into fighting shape. That will take the most time, so we'll begin there while I explore avenues of attracting men with military backgrounds."

"And do we know where we'll be attacking, Sir Harold," the Brigadier wanted to know. "Terrain in these parts varies greatly, and my planning will depend of whether the approach is over a field, a lake, a forest, mountains, what sort of cover we'll have, that sort o' thing. I haven't been able to find this place on any of the maps here."

"A gentleman in the group has confirmed to me that he knows the location. It's nearby here, actually, but not on maps. These wizards have some way of making it invisible or some such rot. Anyway, he said you'd be able to see it if you knew where it was and what to look for, and he knows and will tell us. I'm not sure if Mr. Frost will visit here himself, or how we'll get him to provide that, but rest assured, Brigadier, we'll know where we're headed, soon enough. He did mention a lake and a forest nearby, so I'd imagine land quite a bit like around this place, actually."

The rest of the evening was spent discussing the numbers of recruits they expected to be coming to Scotland, and what arrangements needed to be made to billet, clothe and feed them while they learned the skills they would need. Others around the table accepted responsibility for various aspects of the endeavor, and the Brigadier began a very preliminary sketch of what he dubbed "Operation Magic Castle."

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry was having a difficult time concentrating in his classes the next day. The ravens had come to him in Professor Flitwick's class and begun whispering their secrets. He thought to try to reason with them, and proposed that if they'd just wait until the break at lunchtime, he could give them his undivided attention. Maybe you can't make such requests of magical familiars, but you'd never know without asking, right?

To Harry's surprise, that effort at negotiation worked, and the birds went silent. Now he had to deal with the suspense; something was going on out there, and he didn't know what. That was his burden through the remainder of Charms and a Potions class, when finally it was time for lunch.

Harry approached Severus as the class broke up, and asked if they could go to his office for a minute. While Severus had no problem with the opportunity to spend some time with Harry, it was not their practice to seek out each other during the school day, so he was curious as to what led to this request.

Harry did not give him long to wonder. "Severus, the ravens are back. They came to me this morning, during Charms, and I asked if they could hold off until lunchtime, as I was busy."

The cheekiness of that approach earned him a soft chuckle from Severus, although as he chuckled, Severus recalled Harry commanding the earth to hold the capstone on the Well of Despair, and the earth doing as told. Surely, if the earth herself was compelled to do the King's bidding, how could a couple of legendary magical familiars do anything less?

"No, I've been thinking that there has to be a more efficient way for this to work, this vision thing. Anyway, it did work," Harry went on, casting a look at Severus, who quieted the chuckle. "I assume they have something to tell me and will do it now. Rather than have to deal with whatever this is in the Great Hall, I thought I'd ask to wait for it here. I'll have to tell you right away, anyway, and maybe there's a more efficient way to share the information with you so if I've forgotten anything I can . . . ."

Harry's voice trailed off abruptly, as the visions overtook him. He initially thought this was some sort of rerun of the vision he'd had earlier, of the muggle military assault, but he realized the men were not wearing uniforms. Otherwise, it was very similar to the earlier vision. As he was immersed in what he was seeing, he remembered that his bondmate was sitting nearby, so he began to describe what he was seeing aloud.

"I see troops, landing in helicopters out near Hogsmead . . . no, closer to the lake. There are helicopters, and those, over there, tanks. Bunch of them, too. All coming toward Hogwarts – definitely Hogwarts – I see Hagrid's hut, and I'm sure that's a Centaur watching from the edge of the forest. I think those things over there are cannons. And great big guns carried by the soldiers on their shoulders, don't know what kind. Not waves and waves of soldiers – a fairly modest number, actually. They are all looking toward the castle, absolutely."

Severus had come to stand next to Harry, not sure if he could be seen or heard, but willing to hope that Harry could feel his hand on his shoulder in a show of support. He listened to the description, mind racing. "Harry, are they soldiers?" he asked. Given all that had transpired after the last muggle thought to initiate military action against Hogwarts, it did seem surprising that they would be planning that again without the wizarding world having been alerted.

"Actually, they don't seem to be in uniforms, not the kind with badges and stripes and such. Just dark muggle-looking clothes," Harry answered, a bit of surprise in his voice.

"And are you sure this is Hogwarts?" Severus now wanted to know.

Harry peered harder with unseeing eyes for a second, and answered flatly, "Yes."

Next Severus wondered "Are they actually damaging the castle?" If this was a truly muggle assault with what sounded like muggle weapons, he assumed that the wards would deflect anything they directed at the old stones.

Harry squirmed a bit in his chair, not actually moving in the real world, but possibly repositioning himself in his vision. "No, I see the guns blasting away, but the castle doesn't look hit."

Harry spent a few more moments looking with unseeing eyes at Severus as he saw the vision shown by the ravens. Finally, the vision ended, and Harry sagged back in his chair.

"Thank you for asking questions, especially the one about the castle, Severus," Harry began. "I was intent on seeing who was coming, and very sure that it was Hogwarts that they were approaching, but it was good to realize that this did, or isn't going to, whatever, actually destroy Hogwarts."

"Are you alright, then?" Severus asked. "These visions have no lingering impact?"

Harry pondered that for a moment. "In the past, they've terrified me, more than anything. They happen so fast, with no warning really, and there you are, in the middle of a battle or whatever. I think that was always the worst part. But, no, I'm fine now."

"I will tell the Headmaster that we require a word, immediately after our meal, if you are up to that," Severus suggested, still clearly a bit concerned about the the aftereffects of the vision. "Maybe we can have someone from the Ministry join us, in case there's been some important development in the muggle world they've forgotten to pass along."

Harry chuckled at that. Severus was not going to forgive the Headmaster for not sharing more immediately the news about the muggle concerns about the growing militancy of the anti-wizard movement, although his ire now seemed to have shifted to the Ministry and was no longer squarely on Albus.

Seversus had a few whispered words with Albus as he went to take his seat at the Head Table in the Great Hall a few minutes later, and he sent Harry a meaningful look as Harry squeezed in next to Neville at the Gryffindor table. Harry nodded in return, acknowledging they'd meet with the Headmaster after lunch.

For the time being, he helped himself to the chicken and potatoes on the platters before him, and joined in the raucous conversation that was rolling along the table. He heard about Seamus' success in wooing a pretty Hufflepuff who'd caught his eye, some new Quidditch plays Ron had been working out, and heard second-hand stories of a spectacular Charms mishap in the second-year Gryffindor/Slytherin class that had landed five members of the class in the Infirmary.

Harry could feel Hermione's eyes on him as he paid attention to his friends and offered appropriate rejoinders to the bits of conversation directed his way. If he thought he was behaving in a way that gave away nothing of the concern he felt after seeing the vision shared by the ravens, he had underestimated Hermione. She held her tongue, almost encouraging him to enjoy the break of this meal shared with his friends; she'd corner him later and find out why he looked drawn as she did.

Try as he might to get out of the Great Hall quickly as soon as he saw Severus finish his meal, Harry found himself pulled aside by Hermione as soon as he got past the doors.

"What is wrong with you, Harry? You look awful," she began.

With a smile, Harry replied, "Why, thanks, Hermione, nice of you to notice."

That earned him a small punch to the arm. "You know what I mean. You are pale, and the skin around your eyes is all tight. Your mouth looked a bit pinched, too, when you sat down. What's going on? Are you alright?" she demanded.

"I'm fine, Mione, really I am. I had another visit from the ravens, it looks like another muggle attack on Hogwarts is being planned. Not the military, I don't think, but they sure had weapons. Severus told the Headmaster we need to see him, that's where I'm headed now. I'll let you know if anything more comes of it."

With a look that told him he would let her know if he knew what was good for him, she stepped aside silently and allowed him to pass.

Up in the Headmaster's office, he joined Severus as they waited for Kingsley Shaklebolt and Auror Stark to arrive in Harry's own offices. Albus had been happy to arrange for the meeting, but felt Harry's offices were more appropriate when the Ministry was invited. Appearances, and all.

When the heard the swoosh of the floo, the three wizards walked over to the other offices and greeted the new arrivals.

Harry took the lead as the host of the meeting, directing the men to seats in the office. "Thank you both for joining us. I had a vision from the ravens right before lunch, and Severus felt we needed to bring this to your attention right away."

He described a muggle force, with some significant muggle weapons, attacking the castle, in as much detail as he could remember. He described what appeared to be the landing area for the helicopters, although he wasn't sure how the tanks and cannons got there. He concluded with the observation, secured at Severus' suggestion, that there appeared to be no harm actually being done to the castle itself.

Stark looked thoughtful. "We have been getting updates from the muggle government on a daily basis as they've been tracking the anti-wizard movement." With a nod at Severus, he added "We've identified about half a dozen wizards among the leaders of the movement, although of course we've said nothing about that to the muggles. Fudge is definitely back, closely aligned with the muggle leaders for reasons we can't fathom. And there are at least five confirmed wizards identified by Professor Snape as Death Eaters. Nothing suggests that Fudge and the Death Eaters know the others' true identity."

Turning his attention to Harry, Stark added "You are quite sure, Mr. Potter, that this did not seem to involve the muggle military itself?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm hardly an expert, but the men were not wearing soldier's uniforms – no insignia, things like that. I don't think the tanks had insignia either, but I'm not sure if they normally would. When I saw the vision of the actual muggle military attack, there were lots and lots of soldiers involved, and this vision involved way fewer men. I don't think it's the same group."

Stark took a moment to consider what he'd been told. Shaking his head, he said "Today's information from the muggle Prime Minister, confirmed by the Auror on his staff, confirms no muggle military activity. The muggle government is still watching the anti-wizard group closely, of course. They did mention that a very wealthy industrialist has gotten involved over the last week or two, which worried them. I gather he's a bit of a renegade, short temper or some such. I'm not sure if what you've seen today, Mr. Potter, is connected in any way to him, or to that group. I'll ask the Minister to inquire if there have been any signs of unauthorized military activity, or possibly private military activity, detected. Maybe suggest that we have reason to believe that an attack is being planned. I don't know how much she'd be willing to disclose about why we think this, but she can plant the seed and get them to look for signs."

As Kingsley escorted Auror Stark down to the Ministry Annex, Albus asked Harry and Severus to stay back for a moment.

"You said the castle is unharmed by this attack, Harry?" he asked, as soon at the others were gone.

"Yes, sir. Severus asked me to check that while the vision was going on, and I looked specifically. The wards kept the muggles at a distance themselves, and their tanks and cannon couldn't get close, either. There was a racket, as they were shooting all sorts of stuff our way," a comment that earned him a raised eyebrow from his bondmate. Severus never liked words like "stuff."

Harry continued, "Whatever the muggles were firing at us, guns, cannon, whatever, it was not getting through, either. The castle walls were untouched. Even the grounds in front of the castle were fine. Hagrid's hut, and his garden, fine, too."

The Headmaster seemed to relax at that.

"The wards of Hogwarts are ancient and powerful, and I do have every confidence in their protection, but I'm not familiar with muggle technology and am always fearful that they will come up with something that finds a way through. It's a relief that our protections continue to serve us well."

Over the last month or so, all tents on the front lawn of the castle had been moved to more sheltered areas. This had more to do with the increasingly chilly winds that blew in over the lake, especially at night, rather than with security concerns. "Ought we be more concerned now with the tents, Albus," Severus asked. "Are any still outside the castle walls?"

Albus beamed at Severus, pleased that he expressed this concern on behalf of the families who were using the tents. "There are a few tents close the walls, but outside, sheltered from the wind. They are within the wards. The protection comes from the wards, not the stones of the walls, so I think it remains prudent to allow our guests the comfort of the extra space in those sheltered areas. If conditions deteriorate, or we have any reason to fear the wards might be breached, we'll insist they all come within the walls and will let the castle deal with the space concerns. For now, let people be."

Harry was still thinking about the anti-wizard groups. "How good do you think the muggles are at watching what the anti-wizard groups are doing," he asked.

Severus looked at Albus, as he shrugged his shoulders. "I've no idea. I assume they know their own kind."

"Ought we offer to use magic to see if we can help them out? Or, if the Ministry doesn't want to insert itself like that," he continued, suspecting that there probably was a good reason to keep magic out of muggle affairs, "can the Order do something?"

Albus nodded thoughtfully at the idea. "If we were sure there were no wizards in the mix, it would be simple enough to use a listening charm, I suppose, although there is a wizarding law prohibiting the Ministry from that level of involvement in muggle activity."

Harry blushed, and wondered if Professor Binns had ever said anything about that. Severus smiled, suspecting that Harry's thoughts had turned to his oft-ignored History professor.

"With wizards involved, that's very risky, though, Harry," Albus continued. "They might detect our efforts, and that could be a big problem. Many wizards, even weaker and less accomplished wizards, can feel spells or magic. Often, they are sensitive to just one kind of magic, but if you trigger their awareness, we lose an advantage. It's probably best to leave the muggles to figure out what their kind are doing, with some suggestions from us if we have reason to have certain suspicions."

As Albus stood to head back to his own office, he said "Thank you, my boys, for letting us know about this vision. If we expect the Ministry to be forthcoming with news they get from the muggles, we need to show that we are being the same. I think the meeting today will serve us very well, indeed, in the weeks and months to come."

X X X X X X X X X X

The Prime Minister found that he was not upset at all when the annoying little man in the portrait announced the imminent arrival of the Minister of Magic. This new woman, Minister Bones, was nothing like that gasbag, Fudge. Her demeanor was always controlled and professional, not given over to histrionics as Fudge often was. She felt more like an ally, almost a friend.

He stood as soon as the green flames appeared in his grate, and greeted her as soon as she stepped through.

"Good evening, Madam Minister," he offered as he showed her to a seat, and took one opposite a small table. "May I offer you tea? A brandy?"

"No, thank you, Mr. Prime Minister," she replied, trying to be cordial but needing to get down to business quickly. "We have reason to believe that a military operation, not likely involving your actual military forces, is being planned. The attack being planned seemed similar to the one Mr. Fudge had tried to incite, but it's not the same force. We are wondering if the anti-magic factions have succeeded in spawning plans for an actual attack. Might your surveillance of them have yielded anything that suggest what is going on here?"

The Prime Minister felt a bit uneasy with her "reason to believe." What did they know, and maybe more to the point, how did they come to know it? He was still a bit nervous with this magic thing.

"Reason to believe . . . Have your people seen something?" he asked.

Amelia knew this would be an issue, and one she really did not want to have to address in detail. "Not with our eyes, exactly, but our suspicions here are a very sure indication that something is afoot, being planned at least. I do ask that you trust me on this, Mr. Prime Minister."

He faltered, somewhat reluctant to willingly act in the face of such vague "reasons."

Amelia sensed his reluctance, and continued. "We do have seers and others with the gift of second sight in our world. I stepped through to introduce myself to you when we became aware of your plans, at Fudge's urging, to attack Hogwarts, and we've now become aware, in the same way, of another group planning an attack."

Her reference to his own planned attack brought him up short. He had been planning an attack, and she did intervene before it could become reality.

"I will ask the teams watching the anti-magic groups to be particularly sensitive to anything that might suggest military action. We told you of the recent involvement of a Sir Harold Beckwith in the groups?" He waited for a second, to see if she reacted to Sir Harold's name. He was known to just about everyone in Britain for his vast fortune, nearly rivaling the Queen's, his great business successes, and his eccentric personality. She clearly knew nothing of the man.

"Essentially, Madam Minister, until that Charles Frost arrived, the groups were really just noisy mobs. We feel Frost was the one who gave them a vision and mission, but even then, they were grassroots agitators with little chance of accomplishing much. Sir Harold brought the means to do something. He's likely the wealthiest man in England, almost as rich as the Queen. The golden touch in business affairs. And a bit idiosyncratic, if I may say so. Rather paranoid. Always fearing that he's going to be attacked, physically. One of those people with elaborate security details and reportedly very fascinated with weapons."

While the Minister was thinking what on earth was a "security detail," she got the picture. Money, paranoia and a fascination with weapons said it all.

"He sounds like someone to be watched, Mr. Prime Minister."

"And, we are, Madam Minister. We have him under surveillance at all times. He's up in his estate in Scotland, as we speak. Went up a few days ago."

If that was supposed to make Amelia feel better, it didn't. That just put Sir Harold in closer proximity to Hogwarts, if he was indeed the man behind the little muggle army forming up. Suddenly the transport of those various vehicles her Aurors had described to her seemed to be much less of a challenge than they'd thought.

"As you recall, Mr. Prime Minister, Hogwarts Castle is in Scotland, and that remains the most likely target of any action. Please keep a close eye on him, and keep my people informed. Mr. Entwhistle can get to me whenever you need me. Should he not be around," she went on, extracting something from the pocket of her robe, and extending her hand to give it to him, "you can use this."

It was a funny bottlecap like the one that transported him back from his visit to Hogwarts not that long ago. He held it like it might try to bite him at any moment.

"If you have news about this, please hold this cap in your hand as you say "Ministry of Magic." It will alert me that we need to speak, and I will appear before you in a matter of minutes. So use it in private, in a place where my sudden appearance will not create distress."

Looking distressed himself, he nodded as he slipped the odd bit of metal into a pocket of his vest.

After his guest had disappeared into the fireplace, the Prime Minister summoned Mr. Entwhistle into his office.

"Entwhistle, on a very Top Secret basis, we need to alert the team following activities at the estate in Scotland that we suspect something might be up there. To be very alert to anything that looks like preparation for some sort of military operation. And for them to report to me immediately if they uncover anything at all that might be of interest."

Auror Entwhistle was aware that his real boss had just met with his assigned boss, and understood the urgency and importance of this surveillance. He wished the wizards could do something to make the muggle surveillance more effective; while muggle technology was quite amazing, it had very serious limits. He knew the law and was going to uphold it, but if ever a time called for a good listening charm, this was it.


	51. Ch 128 Revelations

Chapter 128 – Revelations

A muggle surveillance team was settled into a utility van driving slowly along the road that skirted the vast expanse of Sir Harold Beckwith's estate later that evening. The three men, all of whom had the highest-level security clearances, had been briefed on the situation while in the air transport that brought them north from London to Scotland. They were proud to have been hand-picked for an assignment at the Prime Minister's request, although this particular assignment seemed most peculiar.

"Alright, lads, I see the entrance to the estate, up there on the right," the driver whispered. "All systems ready? We can make just this one pass going east, and then another going west in half an hour, so make it count."

The man perched on a low bench in the back was adjusting some knobs on several large electronic components, and he nodded to the man riding shotgun in the front seat.

"So far, the security at this place has been obvious – we didn't need scanners to spot the huge cameras, or detect the electricity running along those big wires across the tops of the fences. Bloody hell, we could even hear the dogs patrolling the grounds inside the fences. I'd be surprised if they suddenly went all subtle at the front gates, but we'll do what we are supposed to do," he muttered.

The van drove cautiously past the large gates that marked the entrance to the estate, its hidden infrared cameras recording the scene in great detail, its scanners identifying all electrical devices and a few new gadgets supposedly capturing information about the people and larger animals within 10 meters of the devices. It proceeded on to the next crossroad away from the estate, and drove along to a point out of sight of anyone watching from the estate, where they stopped the van at the side of the road. All three men huddled in the back, to check the results collected in the drive-by.

"The Queen's jewels aren't this well-protected, lads!" the driver exclaimed as he watched the images appear on a screen on a laptop, which were shared simultaneously via satellite link with a team in London. "You don't need the lads back in London to study this – look, right there – you can see cameras, and that big one over there looks like one of those body heat things we're using."

The man who had been riding shotgun was checking the results of the body heat scan and replied, "It's well-populated in there, too. This thing seems to have spotted . . . eight, nine, ten, and maybe that's eleven, I'm not certain, men within range, and I think those little blips might be dogs, even more of them, and those others are probably horses. That place is a fortress! Do we have any idea what's going on in there?"

"Above our pay grade, mate," the technician in the group added. "Let's have the sandwiches we packed, since we have to wait the length of a service call, and then we head back. The boys back at base will need to take the next step. No way we can hope to infiltrate that place from the ground."

The three men finished their sandwiches and retraced their path back to the main road, intending to go back to the safe house the government maintained as part of security for Balmoral Castle, not that far from where they were. They were driving through the small village located near Sir Harold's estate when one of the men spotted the local pub.

"Anyone else fancy a pint, then? This was a wild goose chase, and it's cost us an evening at home. I think it's the least the government could do for three civil servants such as ourselves," the driver suggested, to unanimous agreement.

That suggestion ended up producing the most valuable information of the evening.

The three men were observed arriving in a utility company van, and they were assumed to be the repairmen dispatched when lines were down. The locals in the pub simply folded them into ongoing conversation, which was focused on whatever was going on at Sir Harold's.

In short order, amid good natured banter and shared stories, the three men learned that half a dozen busloads of men had been seen hurtling through town a couple of days before. It was observed that several of the small firms in town that provisioned the estate (including the owner of the fine establishment in which they were now enjoying a pint) had been compelled to rent trucks to bring in the quantities of food, beer and other supplies that had been ordered. Another man volunteered that half a dozen young men of the town had been hired a week ago to set up several dozen large tents clustered around an enormous outbuilding set well back from the manor house. Someone else had seen a huge truck with portable toilets driving through town very late at night, the night after the tents were put up.

The barman looked over the new arrivals. "Not surprising, then, if they've blown a fuse, or whatever, with that many men in there using the electricity, huh?" he commented to the driver, who was a few years older than his fellows and assumed to be in charge.

The driver just nodded. "Nah, don't worry lads, your power's fine. The boys who watch the dials did see a spike in use, and always worry that something broke, that we're electrocuting fishes in a stream or something. We found nothing, and now you've told us what's probably the whole story. A long trip, all for naught."

As the three men were heading off from their brief stop in the pub, the man in the rear of the van placed a call via a secure mobile link back to London, reporting what they'd learned in the local pub, having found out nothing useful from all their high-tech apparatus. As the report on activity at Sir Harold Beckwith's estate made its way up the line to the Prime Minister's office, no mention was made of the extremely low-tech manner in which is was obtained.

X X X X X X X X X X

Madam Bunswil offered an owl treat to the fluffy barn owl that had just deposited a large bundle of parchment on her desk. She'd hoped to have this information the day before, but it looked like there might be a bit more here than she had originally expected, given the size of that bundle. The owl hooted and left, and she began the process of reviewing the information over her morning coffee.

One of her yearmates at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic was from Hungary, and while that yearmate had passed away years ago, Madam Bunswil had known the children, and had kept in touch with her friend's daughter, Cili. Over the years, Madam Bunswil had kept in touch with many people, and their children, and in many cases now, their grandchildren. Always friendly notes, occasionally a visit, and of course gifts at the appropriate times. A social web, but one that could be used for her business when necessary, such as when she needed information about people in communities outside of her normal reach.

Cili wrote on for a page or two to her dear Aunt Vadoma, all about her family and their activities, and Vadoma Bunswil read that with interest, before getting to the pages at the back. It turned out that she had inquired about a young man of scandalously ill repute in the community. As a consequence, she got quite a lengthy description of his many misdeeds, and the many trials to which he'd put his wonderful mother, apparently a distant cousin to Cili's daughter-in-law.

Parts of the narrative might be of interest to Lord Malfoy, if any of this might suggest why the young man was doing what he did, she thought, as she started noting dates on a spare bit of parchment, to compare with the paltry amount of information known by the Aurors about the man who tried to kill Lord Snape. The apparent age of the assailant appeared to align with the date of birth provided by Cili's material, and this man's disappearance from his home was sufficiently in advance of the event involving Lord Snape to allow for the travels it was assumed he made before that event. There was a small photograph of the man, as well, a nice surprise. She checked the packet of information provided by Lucius, and sure enough, there was a photograph of the man taken in the Ministry morgue. There were years and no doubt some hard living between the two photos, but it did look like the same man. It all checked out - this was him.

So, who was he? The name given was Andor Szalay. She'd never heard of him individually, but she did know of the Szalay clan. The Szalays were an old magical family from Hungary, she recalled that, and then spent a few moments sifting through what appeared to be copies of pages from his family lineage book – had she ever known anyone from that family? None of the names seemed familiar. Cili's notes went on to discuss the family, adding almost as a gossipy aside that they were suspected to include some Roma stock, way back. Andor's personal magical skills, if there were any, apparently were not known in his community, or had been forgotten in the wake of the circumstances of his hasty departure.

Roma ancestry, now that was intriguing. Madam Bunswil came from similar stock; she rarely used her first name beyond a very small circle of old friends because it was a Roma name, chosen for her by her mother.

Even in the magical world, the Roma were not always welcomed.

Her magic was more of the mind than the wand, as she liked to describe it. Over the years, she'd come to learn that was a Roma trait. Oh, she could do spells and charms and all the things taught in Beauxbatons, but she had true and powerful gifts elsewhere. Not quite an empath, not necessarily a seer, and goodness, not a diviner, but a very unique blend of skills that enabled her to assess, understand, read and perceive things about magical people, and their magic. She could meet people and have an unerringly accurate assessment of their sincerity, honesty and at times, even their intentions. She'd found a number of businessmen willing to pay her handsomely for insights into and backgrounds of potential business partners and the likelihood of the success of a business endeavor based on the characters of the participants.

As she was carving out a career and making her way in the world, she'd had no idea how she'd come into such an apparently unusual set of skills. A chance meeting with an old gypsy fortune-teller, who she'd initially been inclined to dismiss as a complete muggle fraud, gave her a clue as to her magical inheritance.

Her skills had allowed her to deduce that the magic in that wand was from a member of a clan in the Carpathian Mountains, in Hungary. Cili confirmed that the man who owned the wand was indeed from there, but the Roma part was quite a surprise. Knowing that did help her hone in on the sorts of special skills she might look for, probably by other means. It was a good start.

After finishing her morning coffee, Madam Bunswil began a new letter to the grandson of an old friend of hers who had worked not that many years ago as a healer in those mountains. He might be able to confirm her suspicions about unique traits among the Szalay clan's magic.

She dispatched a second owl to Lord Malfoy, informing him of what she now knew of the assailant's name and lineage, and presenting the information about Andor that she got in the package from Cili. She added that she was now checking on any unique skills associated with the magic of his clan. She expected to be able to provide a full report on that within a day or two.

X X X X X X X X X X

The Gryffindor seventh years who had free periods were, as usual, using the Great Hall to study as a group, allowing more banter and conversation than would be possible in the quiet of the library. Even Hermione usually sat with her mates in the Great Hall during free periods, although she would get to the library later in the afternoons on most days. The arrival of the mail typically interrupted studies for a few minutes, when all manner of owls, and more recently, the occasional vulture looking for Neville, soared in through the open ceiling and noisily sought out the young witch or wizard for whom they had a letter or parcel.

This morning, Hermione had several owls hovering near her, swooping down in turn to drop a periodical, two letters and a newspaper. Others at the table got their usual assortment of letters and small parcels, as well. There was no vulture in the mix this morning, so Neville was not getting a note from Nitrocris, although a small owl did deposit a note from his grandmother at his place. Everyone dropped their studies to check out whatever had been delivered, with murmuring of news and reactions around the table.

Harry looked up from his work to see what others had gotten and to join in some of the conversation springing up, knowing that all of his mail was directed elsewhere. Hermione quickly sorted her periodical and newspaper, and immediately opened one letter, and his attention was drawn to her look of . . . well, he wasn't sure what. She looked flustered, that was really the only way to describe it, and it was a sight he'd not seen before. It looked to be a typed, business letter, too, making the whole situation even more mysterious. When she'd finished reading the second page of the letter, she carefully folded it and returned it to its envelope. She said nothing about it, and Harry let it slide, silently vowing to himself to find out what that was all about, later.

The Gryffindors were mainly absorbed in admiring a birthday gift that looked like some kind of jewelry that Padma Patil had received from her parents, with a smaller contingent sharing a magazine that Dean Thomas had received. Harry joined in briefly, but was soon back finishing his Charm essay.

As those taking Advanced Potions headed off toward the dungeons for a late morning class, Harry fell in beside Hermione while Ron carried on with Dean about the magazine.

"What was in that letter you got, Hermione? You looked almost upset, and then you didn't say anything. Is everything alright?" he asked quietly as they trooped along behind the others.

Hermione gave him a sharp look, and he grinned. "Hey, I'm not the only one who looks around and sees things. You don't have a lock on that, Mione. Now, spill. What was that all about?"

With a look of mild annoyance at his persistence, she took a breath and replied. "It was a letter from the editor of the journal to which Professor Snape suggested that I submit my article, if you must know."

Harry immediately felt guilty – had his friend just gotten a rejection letter, and now he was pestering her about it? "Oh, sorry, Mione, I didn't mean to pry. I'm sure Severus can suggest other publications that would be interested. . ." He stopped apologizing when he realized that she was looking at him like he might have just sprouted another head.

"What are you going on about, Harry? It was a very cordial letter, and they are most interested in publishing what I sent them," Hermione volunteered crisply.

Now it was Harry's turn to look puzzled. "Then why did you look all flustered and disturbed when you read the letter? I'd have to imagine that hearing that they'd publish your article would make most people very pleased."

Hermione was different, he knew that, but her reaction to this good news was odd, even for her.

"Oh, that," she allowed. "I was reacting to how they addressed me, who they seem to think I am."

Harry's look of puzzlement remained on his face after that attempt at explanation, and she finally fished the letter out of her bookbag and showed it to him. "Note the title used with my name."

Sure enough, the letter had been addressed to "Professor" Granger.

"And read the letter – it's nothing confidential. See how they got the impression that I teach here."

As he quickly read through the letter, Harry's puzzlement gave way to a look of surprise and pleasure. "Severus! He told them not just that he'd suggested that you submit it to them, but that he thinks very highly of the work! Congratulations, Hermione! This has to be a first, such glowing praise for a Gryffindor from Severus of all people. I'm very proud of you."

Hermione finally got past her embarrassment at the editor's mistake, and her guilt at feeling so pleased with the error, and she smiled, trying hard to keep a rein on her emotions. Harry's summary did not capture words that were even now engraving themselves in her memory. Professor Snape had apparently described her article as "a particularly strong contribution to the scholarship of magical dispersion." At least that is what the editor said. He also mentioned that Professor Snape had said that her "fresh approach, unfettered by the dogma that cluttered so much of research in the wizarding world" had inspired him in some new research of his own that he'd recently begun.

Feeling her equilibrium returning, Hermione relaxed. "To think Professor Snape was so generous with his praise that the editor thought I was a professor – that is amazing. I'm sure he'll be mortified when he learns I'm just a student here. He said they had some independent researchers who were going to check a few things out. Do you think they'll hold up my article if they can't get access to the records I used? What if they can't? What if . . . "

"Calm down, Mione," Harry interrupted. "I can ask Severus what kind of checking they do, what sort of issues he'd expect given what you wrote. He read your work several times, so he knows what you were doing. Enjoy the moment."

Harry and Ron exited the Potions classroom an hour later, surprised to see Bill Weasley waiting at the door.

"Hey, little brother," his older, if slightly shorter, brother said to Ron. "Head on up to the Infirmary. Dad's here, and Charlie and Percy, and Fred and George are coming as soon as they can get someone to cover the store. Mom's having the baby today!"

Ron blushed – he really did not need more reminders that his parents still, well, you know. Harry and Hermione made up for his lack of enthusiasm. They each grabbed him by an arm, and the threesome bound off to join the waiting Weasleys upstairs.

Bill hung back a bit, and as soon as the three were out of sight down the corridor, he stepped into the classroom, for a quick word with Professor Snape on a Gringotts matter.

Severus looked up from his desk, where he was organizing the essays he'd just collected. He'd never really minded Bill Weasley, even as a student, although he might have felt differently if he could have predicted what the young man's siblings would be like. But at least the arrival of this member of the Weasley clan in his classroom did not raise his blood pressure. Standing, he nearly smiled as he greeted Bill.

"Mr. Weasley – what a surprise!" he offered, not exactly warmly, but far more cordially than most of his former students would be welcomed.

"Professor," Bill nodded. The years since he'd graduated had moderated some of the fear and almost awe with which he regarded Severus, but not all of it. "My father sent an owl and asked me to come to Hogwarts today – my mother is about to have the baby. He wasn't aware, of course, that I was just down in High Hill County and not still in Persia. Gringotts still has a full crew still engaged at your manor, of course, my absence is not going to impact completion of the work."

Severus nodded. "And have they actually gotten inside the house yet? I am concerned that those who live in Briarwood Hall will be able to see what's afoot."

"Not to worry, sir. We have obscuration charms in place, to shield comings and goings, as well as work in progress. Just last week, we got deep enough into the front foyer that we are now able to stage all that from inside the house. It's slow going, but our curse-breakers are the best in the business. If I may say so, sir, there's some pretty nasty stuff in there. It's taking our best giving their best to make any progress at all. It's never taken Gringotts this long to just get past a front door."

Severus quirked his eyebrows in acknowledgement. "My father saw to it that the manor would not be easily inhabited by anyone else if he came to a violent end. I did give some thought to simply demolishing the place, but somehow, that felt like letting him win. This needs to be done. In any case, as Harry and I are in residence here, there's no immediate urgency. It's understood that this is to be kept completely confidential?"

Bill nodded stiffly. This particular engagement carried with it one of the most extensive confidentiality provisions Gringotts had ever accepted from a client of its cursebreaking division, and he and all of his colleagues had been briefed by the Head Goblin as to what was required. "Well, then, Professor, I did want to give you an update as I was here, but I'll be joining the family upstairs now. I assume we'll be seeing you up there, when you have a moment."

Severus stared after Bill as he hurried out of the classroom.

"Family," he thought, several times. He had to imagine that Harry had scurried off with young Weasley and likely Miss Granger when Bill told them of Molly's condition. How different families could be. He'd needed to engage the very best cursebreakers in the business just to get past the front door of his father's manor, and he had to keep the whole endeavor shielded from his conniving brothers. What was the "family" in that? Not for the first time, Severus realized he might actually envy Arthur Weasley for his family and the closeness they shared, and their willingness to embrace others. He could just see the gaggle of redheads lounging on benches in the infirmary, with one head of messy dark hair, one of long, curly brown, and probably a blond in the mix, waiting for news.

He'd eat quickly in the Great Hall, as he was expected to do as a Professor, and join them shortly. He'd been invited, after all.

X X X X X X X X X X

The Prime Minister had placed the bottlecap on the blotter on his desk, and was looking at it suspiciously. He felt he needed to alert the wizards that his people had confirmed a large gathering of men up at Sir Harold's estate. When the ground team had shared what it learned, he'd been able to arrange a fly-over by a spy plane, and had confirmed their suspicions: the estate appeared to have become a military training ground.

With a deep breath, he took the cap in his hand, lifted it close to his face, and whispered clearly "Ministry of Magic." He almost held his breath as he waited. And waited. He didn't know exactly what he expected to happen when he did this, but it surprised him when nothing at all happened. He gave it a few minutes and tried again. He'd just finished whispering the word "Magic" a second time when he heard a soft pop. He almost fell off his chair when he realized that Minister Bones was standing right before his desk. She hadn't used the fireplace, as there'd been no wooshing sound made by the funny green flames. How did they do that?

"Mr. Prime Minister, I came as soon as I was able after hearing your call. You needed to speak to me?" she asked as she took a seat.

The Prime Minister could not help but notice no ashes or other dishevelment about Minister Bones – she just appeared in his office, out of thin air. He mentally shook himself from marveling about that, and refocused on the report on his desk.

"Yes, ma'am. We do have a report, well, two actually. We got a report last night of all sorts of goings on at Sir Harold's estate, and I was able to confirm the intelligence this morning with a fly-over. There are at least a hundred men on the grounds of the estate, and they appear to be living in tents. All indications suggest that they've been there a week, maybe more. The security around the perimeter is state-of-the-art, very powerful, which is why we had to use the fly-over. We did see what our military experts have told me appears to be soldiers engaging in training exercises. They have been studying the photographs we were able to take of the exercises, and have identified their weapons. They made me a list, and I have a reference book here that should help your people identify the various guns and such. Can we provide you with further information?" he asked, as he handed over several pages held together with a staple and shielded in a manila folder. He also passed over an inches-thick book, a reference guide to military weapons.

Amelia couldn't imagine that the kinds of muggle guns would be of any interest, but their ammunition would be important. "I'll have my people check this out, and I appreciate the reference on the guns, as I'm sure it will be helpful. This discusses the ammunition, as well, does it not?" she asked.

He nodded s got all the particulars, including ammunition requirements. I have to assume that Sir Harold has all that on his estate, as well."

The Prime Minister still felt horrified by this discovery, and felt the need to explain a bit more to his guest. "I do have the Crown Prosecution Service checking to see if anything we've observed constitutes a violation of any of our statutes. The preliminary assessment from my staff is that possession alone of the weaponry and even the ammunition is not an offense, and men playing soldiers on private land is also not an offense. I've been informed that there are actually private camps where men pay to pretend they are in the army."

"I'm not really worried about this, Mr. Prime Minister," Amelia said as she stood to get back to her office, using the floo this time. "As I've told you, we believe the target is Hogwarts, and there are very powerful magical spells in place protecting it. These men, and all their weapons, really pose no significant threat to us, more to themselves. We will keep our people behind the wards of the castle now, and they will all be safe. We can probably even disable the weapons, prevent them from being fired. I do appreciate the information, and it will help us assure that we, and to the best of our abilities, they, suffer no harm in this misadventure."

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry and the others lounged in a waiting area created by the house elves for the event, at the front of the Hogwarts Infirmary. Sandwiches had been provided, along with a samovar of tea and pitchers of pumpkin juice, because no one knew how long they'd have to wait for news, and the younger Weasley boys, in particular, were eating as if they hadn't seen food in days.

Albus and Minerva had announced that they would join Severus in heading up to the Infirmary when he told them of the news he'd heard from Bill.

"Is there any word yet," Minerva asked, as she accepted a cup of tea from one of the twins. "Severus told us at lunch that you were all waiting here."

Fred, or maybe it was George, replied, "No, we got word from Dad late this morning that Mom was in labor, and he asked us to join us here as soon as we could."

"Actually, Mom's never been in labor for more than two or three hours for any of us," Bill volunteered. As the oldest, he clearly remembered the arrival of all of his siblings but Charlie and Percy, and had vague recollection of that last. "We've had some frights getting the midwife to the Burrow in time – Dad almost had to deliver Ron himself, he arrived so fast."

On cue, Ron blushed a deep crimson, not at all placated by a pat on the arm from Hermione. Seeing his discomfort, all the other Weasleys joined in with whatever they could recall of the arrivals of their siblings, with only Ginny having no stories to tell. It appeared that she'd arrived within half an hour of the midwife's arrival, close but not quite as dramatic as Ron's birthday. The twins were known to be twins in advance, so a midwife had come to stay at the Burrow the days before the mediwitch expected they'd arrive, so theirs was the least exciting story.

Within half an hour of the group's assembly, the wait was over. A very flushed Arthur joined his family, beaming and holding a small bundle, his new son.

He was instantly mobbed, as everyone jostled for a look at the new arrival, who was already sporting a fuzz of red hair around his head. Minerva asserted herself as the senior woman in the group and relieved Arthur of the bundle, so he could receive the hugs and pats on the back that the others wanted to give him, while everyone could admire the child in a more orderly, safer manner.

"And how is Molly, Arthur?" Albus asked, after admiring the child and giving the proud new father a hug.

"She's fine, thank you, Albus," Arthur answered with a warm smile. "She wanted to bring the baby out here herself, but Madam Pomfrey reminded her that she wasn't as young as when she had Ginny. She's resting now, although I'm sure she'd be pleased if anyone wanted to see her if you went back to her room. I think Poppy is finished with her."

Albus looked around the infirmary, to see how disruptive this large contingent of visitors would be to others. There were just a few children in beds along the far wall – most likely, those were the youngsters who'd snuck into the greenhouses the day before and did not realize how far the neelyfern could project its poisonous spores. Pomona had told him about that – along with a request for stronger wards on the doors of the greenhouses.

With a wave of his hand, a corridor of curtains appeared down the middle of the room.

"Come along, all. We can pay Molly a visit and congratulate her, as well. There are a few sick students here, so please stay in the corridor and keep the noise down," he said, as he began to shoo the small crowd along to Molly's room toward the back.

The room immediately expanded as it sensed the arrival of the Headmaster and a number of others, so there was no trouble getting the entire and expanded Weasley family into the room. Molly herself looked just a bit tired, and was bubbling over with excitement to receive her visitors.

Her children dutifully went over to kiss their mother on the cheek, while Harry, Hermione and Draco hung back awkwardly. This might have been somewhat business-as-usual for the Weasleys, but the three who were only children had no experience whatsoever with the arrival of babies. Molly herself was having none of that.

"Oh, come over here, you three! Give us a hug. I'm so glad that you could be here. Hermione, my dear, wonderful to see you. And Harry! Thank you for joining us. And Draco! How nice to have you complete the family!" she gushed, grabbing each in turn for a quick hug and kiss.

Minerva came up last, handing over the baby to his mother. "A beautiful child, Molly, dear. Congratulations! And have you and Arthur decided upon a name yet?"

Molly exchanged a quick look at her husband. "No, we haven't decided yet. We need to discuss a few things first, but I expect we'll be announcing his name by the end of the day."

Madam Pomfrey had watched the group trouping into her infirmary with resignation, as she saw the Headmaster directing the visit. However, she hovered at the periphery, watching her patient closely. Once all had the chance to admire the baby, congratulate the father and fuss over Molly, she swooped in.

"I'm sure you've all got other places to be, and Molly needs her rest! Please, all, run along. You can visit again later," she scolded, gently ending the visit.

Molly looked a bit sad to see her family go, but she finally smiled gratefully at the mediwitch, who had correctly guessed that she was tired. Poppy patted her old friend on the arm, as she made sure the crisp white blankets were tucked into the bed. She carefully nestled the child in a small crib right where Molly could keep an eye on her baby. "A nap for you, my dear, while the napping is good. The little one will be hungry soon enough. We'll see how you feel come dinner time – Arthur can join you for dinner, and maybe the others can spend some time with you after."

As they all exited the Infirmary, the students went off to rejoin their classmates, and Arthur and his non-student sons headed in the direction of the guest rooms, joined by Draco who was taking advantage of the chance to spend some time with Charlie. Albus, Severus and Minerva were about to head off to their respective offices when Kingsley arrived from the Ministry Annex. The man looked upset by the news in the parchment he'd brought to the Headmaster. However, before Kingsley could say anything, Albus had come to a stop midstride, and closed his eyes. He had just felt a pulse from the wards, and stood still while he probed and assessed what was happening.

When he opened his eyes and accepted the parchment from Kingsley, he spoke quietly to his staff. "The castle is under attack."


	52. Ch 129 The First Wave Breaks

Chapter 129 – The First Wave Breaks

Sir Harold had gotten up at the crack of dawn that morning, absolutely bristling with a sense of anticipation. Today would be the day! He would lead a small band of soldiers against a fortified castle, and take out the leadership of the scourge of magic in Great Britain. Oh, the honors and recognition that would be his! The accomplishments of his various ancestors would be dwarfed by what he would do today.

He delivered a stirring talk in the mess tent down by the Armory when the men assembled for their morning meal, and was sure all were as stirred by their participation in this moment in history as he was. However, there were some last minute things to take care of, so the group did not actually move out until mid-morning.

Sir Harold had brought Frost up to the estate in mid-week, as Frost had said he knew where the magic castle was. The two had joined the Brigadier and his pilots on a ground-based reconnaissance mission, taking two Land Rovers as any of the helicopters would simply draw far too much attention. The Brigadier reported that the drive took less than an hour, and he estimated that the flying time in the Apaches would be less than 15 minutes. He'd spotted some open ground near the lake in front of the castle, and proposed that they stage their attack from there. The plan was for the "ground divisions" to establish a base, and then for the Apaches to bring in most of the troops, and the cannon.

The spot chosen for the base was slightly hidden from the castle by a forest that ran near the lake. The tanks, supply vehicles and extra troop transports could arrive via a short drive across open fields from the nearest lane, and there was even the chance that the helicopters could set down undetected. The tanks and the troops could count on cover until they were right in firing range of the castle itself. The Brigadier did find it most curious that this particular castle did not have walls or a moat surrounding it; it seemed to be a particularly ancient place, and back then, he thought they always surrounded castles with some kind of defensive structure. Well, their folly not to have thought of it!

When all was finally ready, the transports for the troops who were not going in the Apaches, as well as the tanks and supply vehicles, set out first, following the route the Brigadier described them taking earlier in the week. Fortunately, Sir Harold's estate was large enough that they were able to depart onto a seldom-used lane far from the town. As a result, no one could see the strange assortment of vehicles, to say nothing of several tanks, slowly making their way off the estate. About 45 minutes after they departed, the lead vehicle radioed in that it was not able to see the magic castle. They'd carefully followed the directions provided and were confident that they'd passed all the noted landmarks, but there did not appear to be anything at all on the other side of the lake.

Frost had told the Brigadier that he'd learned that magic had been used to make the place devilishly difficult to see, unless one knew exactly where to look and what to look for. Frost said that he was sure that he knew enough to spot the place, and of course he found it for them. He and the Brigadier were confident that once all those on the reconnaissance trip had spotted the place, they could see it themselves later. Too late, the Brigadier now realized that he'd only brought the Apache pilots along on the reconnaissance, and the drivers of the tanks and other vehicles just had his notes of the route to guide them. He'd assumed that knowing where to look would be adequate, but maybe his description had not been sufficient to overcome whatever magic those wretched wizards had employed.

The Brigadier assured himself that the vehicles were positioned in what he believed was the correct place, and joined his men in the lead Apache to bring in the troops. If the vehicles were even close to where they reported themselves to be, he could spot them from the air and direct any last-minute movements before landing.

Sir Harold joined him in the Apache. Sir Harold had invited Frost half-heartedly to accompany them, feeling that he owed the man recognition for helping them find the castle. However, he was also of the mind that the man was not a true warrior, despite his occasional references to his service in some unnamed military, and really did not belong on a military mission. He was relieved when the older gentleman declined the invitation. Frost even graciously acknowledged that the recognition for this military action should be solely Sir Harold's, and he did not want to infringe on that.

It was well after noon when the five Apache helicopters came in low from behind the screen of the forest to join the small cluster of tanks and other vehicles in a sheltered meadow a very short distance to the castle. Sir Harold saw the magic castle as soon as the Brigadier pointed it out to him, and he marveled that magic was strong enough to prevent anyone from spotting the enormous structure. The Brigadier decided not to mention that the drivers of the vehicles on the ground had no idea themselves, even from this short distance, that they were within a good stone's throw of the castle.

It took the leaders, the Brigadier and several men who he had known from his military days and had hired to help him manage this lot, just a short while to organize the troops on the ground, and get everything arranged. They'd been discussing and reviewing this constantly for that last three days, and everyone knew the battle plan.

The Apaches would lead with a few men in each launching the air-to-surface rockets that were the pride of Sir Harold's armory. It was expected that they would punch holes in the walls of the magic castle at several strategic points, to be expanded by howlitzers and other field artillery, until the word was given for troops to being making their way forward to rout the remaining inhabitants.

The Brigadier set up his command post slightly forward from the camp, where he could see the broad field of battle but beyond the reach of weapons, and was joined there by Sir Harold and a small team of communications experts, also men hired by the Brigadier for their experience. The word was given to engage the enemy, and Sir Harold nearly burst with excitement and expectation.

The five Apaches lifted off in unison and slowly proceeded forward to the imposing castle before them. They hovered in a wide semi-circle and kept a bit of distance, not entirely sure what sort of defensive armament such a stronghold might employ. When the word was given, each launched a rocket toward the target they'd been given. The troops and the pilots, to say nothing of those on the ground, looked on in amazement when the rockets blazed forward, but exploded upon impacting something well in front of the castle itself. The castle was unharmed, and the remains of the exploded rockets seemed to slide down an invisible wall to land harmlessly on the ground below.

Rockets were expensive and they did not have an unlimited supply, so the Brigadier quickly gave an order to hold the rockets, and direct fire from the guns in the Apaches toward the castle. He wanted to understand what they were up against without wasting his most precious resources. Gunfire and a few grenades were directed toward the castle, but each struck something invisible in front of the structure, and all trajectories ended there.

The pilot of one of the Apaches had watched in frustration as weaponry that he knew to be powerful and lethal, and that he knew had been launched correctly, failed to reach its target. That building should have suffered serious damage by now, and not even a blade of grass had been singed by all that they'd fired at it.

He hovered as directed, watching the magic castle closely, waiting for another chance to show those freaks what real fire-power looked like. As he watched, he saw an old man, and a few other oddballs, come out of the door of the castle and walk around the grass in front of it, as if they had not a care in the world. They finally stopped to stand between the walls of the old building and the impressive assault forces hovering and beginning to assemble on the ground to attack it.

The old man had a ridiculously colorful robe and a very long white beard, and he wore a pointed cap – had to be a wizard. The others didn't look like people who could defend anything, let alone a castle, against any kind of threat, let alone the military might arrayed against them. Most of those standing with the old chap were women, and some looked to be pretty old women at that. With the possible exception of a black man in traditional African robes, the few men in the small group did not look imposing at all. What did they think they could do, once the helicopters, tanks and troops found a way in?

That must be the point. They didn't think the men under Sir Harold had a chance of getting to them. And that really angered the pilot. He really, really wanted to show those fools a thing or two.

He popped off a few rounds of the guns in the Apache itself, and watched in fascination as they seemed to make the air itself shimmer above the castle, almost being repelled by that air to fall where they'd struck. He unleashed a longer barrage at one spot, wondering if there might be a weakness there that he could exploit, to get through. As he watched the rounds of ammunition strike repeatedly at one spot, he saw more shimmering around that spot, and he began to think that he'd found something, a possible weakness. He radioed into the Command Post.

"Command, this is Apache One. I believe that repeated assault on one small spot might weaken it. I watched as I sent a significant barrage to the same spot, and there was some shimmering that got more pronounced at that place. Request permission to direct more force. Over."

The Brigadier knew the pilot of Apache One – they'd served together many times, and he knew the man was shrewd as well as fearless. He would be the one in the bunch who'd investigate and try to understand what was happening, and it wasn't surprising that he was the one who thought he saw a way through.

"Apache One, this is Command. Permission granted. Other Apaches, cover him," the Brigadier radioed, to his employer's beaming approval.

Apache One drew closer to the castle, and the various guns in the airship were suddenly blazing, directing a full assortment of the firepower they carried to a small patch of the sky above the castle. Everyone could see the shimmer now, even the men at the Command Post. They assumed it meant that whatever defense was in place was being weakened by their continued assault.

A couple of the other Apaches joined in, directed fire from their own weapons to the same spot, seeing more and more shimmer. The troops and their leaders were heartened by the sight, which they took as a sign of progress.

The strange looking group standing outside the castle walls watched the attack quietly, however, making no effort to shield themselves or take any other action, either defensive or offensive. Albus and Minerva had insisted that Severus and the other professors keep the students occupied by maintaining their class schedules. They were joined instead by several adults in the castle, including Kingsley Shacklebolt and others in the Ministry Annex that day, as well as by a few former students living there now with their families. It was a small group that stood before the castle, not physically imposing in the least.

After several long minutes, the radio crackled to life again.

"Command, this is Apache One. Request permission to take the ship forward and land closer to the magic castle. There appears to be no defensive weaponry in place, and if we get closer, we can inflict damage. That little gaggle of wizards standing in front of the castle can't hope to defend against us!"

The Brigadier had some doubts – after all, if the rockets, grenades and ammunition couldn't get through, was it not possible that the Apache itself might have a problem approaching the castle? He never had a chance to express his doubts, as Sir Harold had grabbed the microphone and was answering Apache One.

"Apache One, this is Command. Permission granted. Begin a direct assault."

The Brigadier knew he could not countermand that order, although he felt a dread in the pit of his stomach. Somehow, that seemed like a really bad idea.

Close to the castle walls, Albus watched the unfolding drama with interest. "We should be sure to ask Arthur to step out here, Minerva. He'd be fascinated by those flying machines the muggles have."

A tall redheaded man had just scurried out of the castle, and called over, "My sons already did tell me about this, thank you, Albus." To no one in the group in particular, Arthur went on, "Merlin's beard, will you look at that! What on earth will the muggles think of next? Do you think they'd let me get a closer look at one of those?"

"And are you certain our wards will repel whatever those awful muggles are shooting at us, Headmaster?" Minerva asked crisply, with distaste evident in every word.

"You do raise a good point, my dear," Albus nodded, looking at his deputy with approval. "After all, we really don't want to see anyone get hurt. I am completely confident that the wards are capable of keeping them and their weaponry out of here. So no one at Hogwarts is going to be hurt. But I suggest that we all begin casting Preoccupo Incendio to prevent the gunpower from ignitiing; that spell will easily pass through the wards. Really, what better way is there to prevent anyone from getting hurt than by preventing their guns from firing?"

There were nods all around, and the half-dozen witches and wizards got out their wands. Some pointed them in the general direction of the hovering helicopters, and a few others focused on the tanks and cars assembled a bit further back.

Just as Apache One headed close to the castle to see if it could land where it would be certain to inflict serious damage on the structure, the small group that was assembled outside the castle began to cast its spells. Apache One actually made contact with the wards before any spells hit it, but the timing was fortuitous.

The Apache hit the wards with the same outcome as if it had flown into a solid wall. The rotors bent from the force of contact with the wards and lost lift, and the entire helicopter began to drop from the sky, starting to spiral out of control. The Preoccupo Incendio that hit it not only prevented the gunpowder from igniting, but it also prevented the cylinders in the engines from firing, so the engines shut down right before it was likely that they would have exploded.

The witches and wizards who'd cast the spells immediately realized that the big muggle machine had been damaged and was now falling to earth at a speed that did not bode well for the muggles inside it. Two of the group quickly cast Wingardium Maximus, to gently bring the large contraption to earth. Once they saw it settle on the grass with no apparent ill effect, they thought to rejoin their fellows in casting spells at the other helicopters, but it became evident immediately that for some reason, even the helicopters nowhere near the wards were falling from the sky as they were hit with the Preoccupo Incendio spells. Suddenly, half the group was casting Wingardium Maximus exclusively, just to help the helicopters land safely as they lost their engines.

"Does anyone have any idea how a spell to stop their guns from firing is causing those contraptions to fall out of the sky?" Minerva asked. "I am quite confident that I see muggles inside of the things, so they can't be guns themselves, can they?"

Arthur tipped his head to the side for a moment as he thought. His study of muggle artifacts was not something that had much practical use in the magical world, and he wanted to be sure he got his information right now that his moment to share his arcane knowledge had arrived. "I've read that muggles use engines that burn gasoline to make them work – most ingenious thing I ever heard of, actually, what they come up with! Anyway, we prevented gunpowder from igniting with the spells we were casting. I'll wager that we prevented the fuel from igniting, too, so we shut down the engines that were keeping the machines working. I'm guessing it was all in those great big whirly things on top, that must be what was making them fly. Oh, how I'd love to have one of those!"

"Do all of their engines work like that?" Amaranth Savoy wanted to know. "I see a few of their other contraptions over there, ones that don't seem capable of flying like these. Can we disable them, too?"

Arthur nodded his agreement. "In all likelihood. The engines are probably similar, or at least work on the same principle."

Once all the helicopters had been gently settled on the ground, a few final Preoccupo Incendio spells were sent through the wards, stopping the forward motion of the tanks, jeeps and other vehicles, as well as preventing the firing of all the muggle weapons.

The muggles were totally puzzled by the apparent lack of any response from the magic castle itself, as well as by the sudden loss of the engines in their vehicles and the fact that all their weapons now seemed not to work. In small groups, they got out of their helicopters and transports, with several breaking away to see to the former occupants of Apache One. That group alone needed help in extracting themselves from their badly-damaged helicopter, although only one of the group, who had been in the back of the helicopter when power was lost and who had been thrown to the floor rather hard, was actually injured. That man was nursing his wrist, likely broken in his fall.

The pilot of Apache One quickly took charge. "All right, lads. Evers here, looks like a bad wrist." Evers nodded with a wince, and the pilot continued. "We have anyone with medic training, who can bandage him up? OK then, Jenkins, you take care of that." Evers followed Jenkins over to a spot by the damaged helicopter to apply a splint.

The pilot continued. "Everyone else alright?" he began, and got nods all around. No other injuries. "Good, then. What happened to the weapons? Do we have any that still function?" he continued.

"No, sir," a man who'd been working the guns in one of the helicopters answered. "Just about the time the 'copters lost their engines, my gun stopped firing. I checked it over thoroughly as we settled down, and there was nothing wrong with the weapon. All parts in good working order, ample ammo, no reason at all for the gun to stop working."

A man who'd been working the guns in a tank responded as well. "Our guns were firing fine, but once the engines stopped working in the tank, the guns went quiet. I have excellent battery power, and all the navigation works, all the electronic systems were fine, we had the radios. Just no firepower. Never saw anything like this." He was shaking his head over this unexpected and unexplainable turn of events.

Others murmured about their own experiences, but those two summed it up. The electronics were fine – it was just the engines and guns that had stopped.

One of the younger men in the group gave voice to a thought in the backs of the minds of many: "I've never heard of helicopters losing engines like that, and just gently settling down like this. I was behind Apache One, and with the rotors bent up like that, I expected a hard landing. But you floated to the ground. What was going on with that?"

No one had any explanations. It was actually a miracle that those in the helicopters hadn't all died in rather firey crashes, and they all knew it. A helicopter without engines, or with damaged rotors, fell fast and hard, and the fuel tended to explode on impact. This was beyond any of their experiences.

The pilot of Apache One reasserted control of the impromptu meeting. "We'll ask the Brigadier about that. For now, we need to contact Command and report. My electronics didn't fare so well when we hit the – well, whatever it was we hit. You say radios are working? Batteries remain charged?"

The radioman who'd served in the closest of the Apaches that were now sitting in a meadow spoke up. "No problem, sir. We can use the radio over in our bird. Everything in there is working fine, except the engines and the guns." He and the pilot of Apache One went off to radio in this most bizarre turn of events.

Another man was fishing about in the pack he'd pulled out of his helicopter when he jumped out on landing. "I have my sidearm in here – yes, here it is. I wonder if small guns like this don't work anymore, either." He pointed his weapon at the ground away from his fellows, and sure enough, there was a click as he pulled the trigger, and then nothing. They all crowded around as he opened the gun and demonstrated that it was mechanically sound, and fully loaded with fresh ammunition.

The pilot of Apache One returned to report, "The Brigadier and Sir Harold are on their way, bringing troops forward too. It will take them a few minutes to walk in, as they report that their vehicles don't work, either."

As the men waited around the Apaches, they were joined by those walking forward from the other tanks and transports that had moved behind the Apaches, now becalmed in the meadow with the helicopters. Most were puzzled by what had gone on, although the pilot of Apache One kept glowering over at the freaks still standing, calm as you please, in front of the magic castle. This was getting personal to him.

The troops joining the Brigadier and Sir Harold on the long walk from Command thought it most prudent to keep close to the edge of the forest for cover, as the information passed along as to why they had to walk in rather than ride was spotty. The same thought occurred to the men standing right at the edge of the meadow near the magic castle; it felt too exposed standing there where they were in full view of the freaks from the castle. They also drifted over to the edge of the forest, just in case.

Unfortunately, all the noise made by the weapons had caught the attention of quite a few of the creatures who made the Dark Forest their home.

The naturally inquisitive unicorns had been among the first to sneak close to where the noise was coming from, although their shyness kept them back far enough to hide safely behind trees. The centaurs were bolder, but several of them had taken time to consult the omens from the stars before stirring to see what was making the noise. The herd trotted forward with more assurance, tinged with caution and with their bows and arrows in hand, closer to the edge of the forest. They were joined in their formation by the feral blue Ford Anglia that had been living in the forest since being flown to Hogwarts by Ron Weasley several years ago. The centaurs had been the most tolerant of the strange new resident, so the Anglia tended to favor their company.

There were other things crawling, striding and slithering from their dark places, curious about the racket. Four copies of the Monster Book of Monsters that had escaped from Hagrid's students over the last few years were hopping toward the noise. Enormous snakes were slithering and even larger spiders were picking their way on their long legs as well. A number of large, furry things were lurking, and way in the back, a small demon had come to look.

A small demon had scampered through the veil when the summons had been cast in Hogsmeade last spring, joining a much larger specimen on the journey into this world. When Neville Longbottom banished the larger demon, the little one scooted quickly to the shelter of the forest; there weren't many souls there to feed on, so it's growth had been stunted. It also crept forward, hopefully. Maybe there was a meal in the offing?

Long before any of the men marching along purposefully in the meadow could see any creatures in the forest, many creatures were watching them. It was just a matter of time.

Finally, someone caught sight of a unicorn that had momentarily come out from behind a tree. Its pearly white coat, silver horn and golden hooves caught light filtering down between the trees, and in the darkness of the forest, the sparkle could not be missed.

It was only when the man called to his friends nearby to point out the extraordinary sight that anyone actually ventured into the forest. Three men followed the first, and almost all of the others followed, as the word spread that someone had seen a unicorn in there.

The four men who'd seen the unicorns first and headed in to investigate were intercepted by what they first thought was a wild horse. It took several moments for anyone's brain to connect the information that their eyes were feeding in: that was not a man astride a horse, that was a man's torso and head growing from the front of the horse, where the horse's head should be. The fact that those men-horse combinations had bows and arrows in their hands was nearly lost on the interlopers as the men closest to them were slow to understand what they were seeing. By the time they realized that they might be coming under attack and turned to run, those behind them were blocking their way, confused by the terrified screams of their fellows.

It seemed that every man saw something different in the panic that followed.

Many men were terrified at the sight of the centaurs. The centaurs had positioned themselves to drive the unwanted visitors from the forest and were the most visible. Others had spotted the gigantic spiders beyond the centaurs, bigger than anything they'd ever imagined. Someone else spotted a blue car – nothing wrong with that, right? Except that no one was at the wheel, and it was herding them out of the forest in concert with the centaurs. Another man had looked skyward and spotted several large snakes – large enough to give those spiders a run for their money – hanging from branches. There were furry things with evil-sounding growls and flashing, sharp-looking teeth, only vaguely seen from a distance.

One man had followed a unicorn on a path that took him away from the centaurs, and as a consequence, got a bit deeper into the forest than the others. He spotted something black, totally black, like nothing he'd ever seen. He looked at it more closely to try to understand what it might be. He was totally horrified when he realized that the blackness was staring back at him, with dark red eyes. He fell hard as he tried to run, and he saw the blackness coming for him as he struggled in vain to find his footing again. He heard a gnashing sound and noticed that the thing had mouths, many of them. His eyes locked on the eyes in the blackness as he awaited his fate, only to have that fate altered by an enormous, hairy creature who seemed to be scolding the menacing blackness as if it was a child and threatening it with a pink umbrella. The man fainted dead away at that point.

As the troops were driven (or ran of their own accord) out of the forest, they assembled on the other side of the meadow, panting from the effort of running for their lives. There was some mumbling about not believing what they'd seen, and what sort of place is this.

The Brigadier and Sir Harold joined them, aghast of the stories told by one and all of what they'd seen in that forest. Finally, it occurred to the Brigadier to determine if they'd lost anyone in the forest. That distracted the men, for at least a moment. Given the general lack of military structure of this ragtag army, there was no infrastructure of leaders who could be counted on to keep track of the men.

"I followed you two blokes in," one allowed, pointing to two others.

"And there were four in the group I entered with," added another, "and we're all here now."

After several rounds of this sort of discussion, the Brigadier realized that one young man was missing. That led to some nervous looks directed among the men, as none wanted to volunteer to go back into that awful place to retrieve a presumably fallen comrade. The Brigadier knew his duty, though, and he was finally joined by some of his comrades from other battles, men who knew their duty as leaders, even of a group like this.

The Brigadier and his small band moved very slowly across the meadow, with some recognition that they had to do something, but no clear understanding as to what that might be.

Before the group reached the forest, though, their dilemma resolved itself.

The man who'd been separated from them was being carried out of the darkness of the forest by someone, or something, that had to be nine feet tall and furry. It was carrying their comrade, a full-grown man in full field gear, as if he was an infant. The man was carried to a spot in the shade of the trees but still a good distance from the forest, and he was gently placed on the ground. As the Brigadier and the others watched in fascination tinged with horror and more than a bit of fear, the creature who'd carried their man out of the forest straightened itself out and looked at them.

"This one got away fum the rest 'o yers," the creature – could that really be a man? – began. "Lucky I found him – the forest's not a fit place for muggles or young'uns to wander on their own. Ran into a little demon that moved in a few months back, so watch yer friend. Demons can do bad things to people, even though it didn't actually get 'im."

The men were flabbergasted. That man, or whatever he was, had to stand nine or ten feet tall, and he was huge. People didn't get that big. And strong! He'd carried a large man like he weighed almost nothing, and wasn't even winded from the exertion! He spoke English, like he was born and raised in these parts.

The giant also didn't seem the least bit intimidated standing alone in front of an armed band of men. At least the ones who'd accompanied the Brigadier on this approach near the forest were trained in combat skills that rendered the loss of the functioning of their weapons just an inconvenience.

Looks were exchanged among the men, and a slight shift occurred. The Brigadier noticed it, and allowed them to proceed. There were at least a dozen men standing around their fallen comrade and this giant from the forest was alone. The men began to shift to encircle the giant, trying to get him away from the man on the ground. A very nasty grin appeared on the faces of several of the men. This had been a day of many unpleasant surprises, and it was going to feel good to give someone a pounding. This man, or whatever, was going to regret his role here.

Before Hagrid could even react to the stealthy moves to surround him, hooves sounded from the forest, and Firenze and three of his fellow centaurs bound out on to the meadow. The centaurs held their bows and arrows in their hands, but reared up on their hind legs to use their front legs to drive the interlopers away from Hagrid and back over to the man prone on the ground. Firenze signaled for his friends to desist when he was satisfied that Hagrid was safely separated from what appeared to be a developing mob.

Looking at the sullen troops huddled now with their still-unconscious comrade, Firenze spoke to them. "You show a disgraceful lack of respect for one who did you a good deed in saving your friend. Hagrid prevented that man from being devoured by a demon, and carried him to safety, and you now plan to attack him? The stars look with great disfavor on those who show no appreciation for their good fortune."

Distrust morphed into amazement. The horse/man spoke English, and better English than the giant? What kind of place was this? Suddenly, it occurred to the Brigadier that the centaurs were likely as skilled in the use of those weapons in their hands as they were at herding them away with the brute show of force using their front legs. Bows and arrows might be no match for guns and grenades, but the guns and grenades did not work right now, so the bows and arrows would carry the day, if it came to that. He tried to quiet the men, and defuse this tense situation.

"We apologize, sir, no disrespect was intended," he began, hoping to placate the angry centaur. "The big man, Hagrid, you called him, carried our friend out of the forest and we assumed he had harmed him."

Firenze wasn't fooled. "Now, you show me disrespect by failing to be truthful," he scolded with growing anger. "Nothing Hagrid said when he placed that muggle on the ground could have led you to believe he'd done anything to that man, except to have rescued him from the demon. Do you know what demons do to people, muggles as well as wizards? They consume them, body and soul. There is absolutely nothing left, except the screams of the souls that have been eaten that reverberate from the demon. And that is for eternity, the stars are clear on that point. A fate worse than death. And that man was spared it because of Hagrid."

All the men were all now very quiet, clearly chastened by the angered centaur, and completely nonplussed by his comments about what a demon might have done to their fallen comrade. One by one, they dropped their gazes to the ground.

Firenze turned to Hagrid, who had been standing amid the other centaurs as Firenze spoke to the troops. "Hagrid, my friend, you are safe now. These men will not seek to harm you, I can see it. We bid you farewell." Directing final looks of menace to the cowering muggle troops, the four centaurs trotted back to the Dark Forest, and Hagrid lumbered along toward the castle.

The eyes of all the troops followed Hagrid, wondering where he was going. Even their most powerful ammunition had not been able to penetrate whatever it was that stood before the castle, and it had crumpled the rotors on one of the Apaches as if there was a stone wall in the air. How was the giant going to get near the magic castle?

The men who had watched the exchange between the giant and centaurs and the small group of men from afar joined their comrades, and stood together watching after the large man. It was another frightening moment to see the way the air itself seemed to shimmer and move, to allow his huge form to proceed past whatever the barrier was, allowing him to approach the castle, where he seemed to be welcomed by the freaks standing outside of it.

The troops could all see some discussion, or maybe even an argument, among the members of the small group. Finally, the old man in the long robes broke away from the others and walked, with surprising quickness and agility for such an obviously old man, down to where the troops were now clustered, at the edge of the wards. Several had reached out their hands, shocked to find that what appeared to be clear air had become hard and impenetrable, feeling quite solid despite its transparency. The old man had been watching the group closely, and had concluded that the older muggle with apparent military bearing was likely the one in charge, so he sought him out for a few words.

"Good day, sir," the Headmaster offered politely, as he nodded at the square-jawed man who stood before him, just outside the wards. "My name is Albus Dumbledore and I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I regret the circumstances of our meeting today, but wanted to assure you that your attempts to attack our school are quite in vain. Our protections are extensive. The first were the charms that made it so difficult for you to find the castle to begin with. Clearly, someone helped you, because once you know what to look for and where we are, even muggles, or non-magical people like yourselves, can see us. But the wards here, they can't be seen but I assure you they are quite impenetrable by anyone who isn't welcome at Hogwarts."

Several of the men in the group voiced a thought shared by most of them. "Then how did the giant get through?" someone shouted from the back.

Albus smiled benignly. "Ah, yes, Hagrid. He's our Professor of the Care of Magical Creatures, as well as the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. I daresay, he's as well known to the wards as I am. They recognized and admitted him immediately."

The Brigadier asked "Are you the reason our guns won't fire and all the engines in our vehicles have stopped working, then?"

Another nod from Albus. "We did not want any harm to come to you people, despite your misguided mission. We knew that nothing was going to reach us in the castle, of course, but were concerned that you might injure yourselves. We cast spells to prevent your ammunition from igniting. We only just discovered that the spells also prevent your engines, as you call them, from working as well. The machines that fly – well, first let me compliment you on such fascinating machinery. We are all most impressed. The first one hit the wards, so it was damaged. But once we realized that those were going to fall to the ground, we used other spells to put them down gently so no one would be harmed."

Despite Albus' placating demeanor and the words that he intended to be conciliatory, he was still met with hostility from the troops. Several men ran hard toward Albus, angered even more when they slammed into the wards and fell back. Albus merely shook his head, and turned away. Over his shoulder, he added "I regret to inform you that the spells we used will linger for a number of days, so you will not be able to depart with the vehicles in which you arrived."

Sir Harold's troops eventually trudged off, back across the meadow. The Brigadier was able to radio back to Sir Harold's estate, and a small parade of busses was dispatched, with clear directions to meet up with the troops at the nearest road on the general maps. It was a good hour march, over some wild terrain, for the troops to finally reach the rendezvous point. During the march, individual stories were shared and the events of the day were crystallized in the group mind. The final reports made back at the castle were significantly different from the "battle" that the wizards had observed.


	53. Ch 130 Mopping Up

Chapter 130 – Mopping Up

Severus couldn't help but notice that Harry was still miffed later that evening. As Severus sat in his usual chair reading a journal, he watched his bondmate sitting stiffly in his usual place on the couch in front of the fire place, arms crossed, a slight scowl still marring his features. Harry spent most of the evening with his friends, and Severus had really hoped his irritation at being denied exit from the castle when that muggle group approached would have dissipated by now. Unfortunately, that did not appear to be the case.

Those inside of Hogwarts Castle when the muggles attempted to attack were hardly unaware of what was going on outside. Classes were kept in progress, but word spread like wildfire. At Albus' instruction, the doors were blocked by the Winter Lands Warriors, who were specifically asked to keep Harry inside for his own protection. Even Arthur Weasley had some talking to do when he asked to be allowed to join the others outside. His grown sons and all the students (including Harry) were unable to talk their way out of the castle, to their annoyance. But magical windows can be expanded to give a broader view than might appear possible from the size of the window outside, and of course, they can also look out over scenes far away, including on the other side of the building. Anyone with a free period and a desire to watch was within reach of a clear view. Harry stood with the Weasleys and a growing crowd of others at the front doors, the small windows of which had been charmed to provide an excellent view of all the goings-on outside on the nearby lawn.

When the Headmaster finally returned from his less-than-satisfying conversation with the Brigadier and led the others with him back into the castle, they were met with a cheer from the assembled ranks of students, visitors, guests and faculty who had waited inside, a few of whom were celebrating what they saw as a victory. At least Albus had the good grace to look chagrinned – that was really nothing more than an intermediate-level Charms practical exam, although technically Leviosa Maximus was a seventh-year spell. The wards were impregnable to the muggle weapons. If the wizards weren't intent on assuring that the muggles weren't harmed in their attempt to attack Hogwarts, they could have simply ignored the whole thing.

The Headmaster had shooed the group off to wherever they were supposed to be, and invited only Hagrid, Minerva and Severus himself up to his office.

Hagrid managed to choose the only chair in the office that was not specially strengthened, and of course it never occurred to him to apply a featherweight charm to himself. There was a brief delay to the meeting, then, while he was helped to his feet and his chair reassembled magically from the splinters that had exploded over half the office when it fell apart under his weight.

Once all were settled and likely to remain that way, Albus took a deep breath.

"That did not go as well as it might," he began.

Minerva begged to disagree. "How on earth can you say that, Albus? The muggles are on their way back to wherever they came from, and hopefully will not be back. It did not appear that any harm had come to any of them. What better outcome was possible?" she asked.

"Um, well, P'erfesser," Hagrid began, looking ill at ease. "One of 'em might have a bit of a problem, actually. The lad I carried out of the forest – he ran inta a wee demon tha's been livin' in the forest."

"A demon?" Minerva screetched, her hand pressed to her chest. "Here, near the school?" She looked as if she might faint.

"Just a little feller – he musta come through with that big one that Neville took care o' in Hogsmeade last summer," Hagrid answered, looking a bit offended by her negative reaction. "Least, I think he's been there since about then. Can't do no one no harm. He's just a baby, from the looks o' him, really. Scared of everything in there, even the unicorns. 'Course, they stay far away from him, but he's terrified of the spiders, and the centaurs. I scared him off, but the lad I found was frightened by it and slipped and fell, and he was staring at the little thing. You never look at demons direct, but o' course, he di'n't know that."

Severus was as appalled as his colleague that such a creature was within miles of him, and at the ease with which Hagrid was willing to adopt the cause of dangerous beings, whether of this world or not. The dragon he'd attempted to foster was nothing compared to his defense of a demon.

The Headmaster was, as usual, far too indulgent of his gamekeeper, who in Severus' opinion, should have been sacked on the spot. He merely nodded vaguely at Hagrid, with a murmured "We'll deal with that later."

"Putting that aside," he restarted his conversation with the group, "I am heartened by the message the Ministry sent over from the muggles. That was a small group, split off from the bigger muggle anti-magic organization, a bit radical. The muggle government seem to have gotten one of their own into the organization now, so they will have better information in the future. For now, we know that was not a credible group, and they've got nothing to show for today's adventure."

Severus could not resist adding, "Except, of course, for the poor muggle who stared down a demon. I can only imagine what his mind is doing right now."

Hagrid gave Severus an offended look, but before he could say anything, Albus spoke again. "We can move their vehicles to a spot near that muggle road a few miles from here. This is an excellent opportunity for the Advanced Charms students to put their studies to practical use – maybe we can even start sixth years on Leviosa Maximus. The muggles can retrieve their belongings there. I suspect Arthur will purloin a few items, for his research, of course, and I'm inclined to indulge him in that."

The mention of Arthur's interest in the muggle flying machines drew a snort from Minerva, confirming Severus' suspicion that the man had been as excited over the helicopters as he was earlier over the arrival of a new son.

"I imagine that a few memory charms, judiciously applied to the vehicles and to the doors of the buildings where the muggles were staying, will cause them to forget whatever they think they recall of today's visit," Minerva offered. "It is a new moon in the next few days, and we've got some cloudy weather coming in. We should have no trouble at all flying in on brooms, if we know where they are – they won't be looking for that."

Severus nodded in agreement. "Excellent idea, Minerva. Who ought we have handle that?"

"I'm sure we'd have ample volunteers but I want this to remain quiet. I'll have several members of the Order handle it," Albus replied.

Albus leaned back and steepled his fingers, peering over his half-moon glasses at his three colleagues. "The fewer people aware of this, the better. I will not be reporting fully on this incident to the Ministry, given the total ineffectiveness of the attack and the lack of lasting harm to the muggles. I don't want to see this have repercussions that can only be a problem to them and to us in the future. I suppose that I will have to alert the Ministry to the fact that one of the muggles who approached the castle might suffer what the muggles usually interpret as something they used to call a "psychotic episode."

"Since I know what caused his problem, I have a few suggestions for treatment that I can pass along to the healers," Severus offered. "Are you going to propose that the man be treated at St. Mungo's or in the Ministry Infirmary?"

Albus looked at Severus thoughtfully, nodding as he stroked his beard. "Perhaps neither, now that I think on this. Either place will make a record of the treatment, one that will not be matched by records elsewhere. Would you be willing to treat the man yourself, Severus?"

In response to Severus' immediate gesture of refusal, Albus quickly continued on. "This is not going to require an actual medical intervention, but magical treatment, and really, who better than you? Let's consider – perhaps when we fly in to put the memory charms on the estate, you and Hagrid can locate the muggle he saved from the demon, and do whatever he needs to have done? And then we all leave together? No one will remember the visit to Hogwarts, and no one will have a lingering condition that cannot be explained."

No, actually, as Severus watched Harry pout about not being allowed onto the lawn of the castle when the muggles approached, he felt that if anyone in this sitting room had earned a good snit today, it was him, not Harry. He heaved a loud sigh in annoyance himself, which broke Harry's concentration.

Harry stole a quick look over at Severus.

"What are you upset about?" Harry asked, not really curious, but suspecting that Severus had caught his look and would be further offended if he said nothing.

Severus really hadn't intended for that sigh to be so . . . loud. At least, that's what he told himself. However, Harry was looking at him quite seriously, so he knew he was not going to be able to brush this off.

"If you must know," he began, "not all went well this afternoon. I learned from your friend Hagrid that one of the muggles might be rather poorly off based on this afternoon's folly."

It wouldn't surprise Harry if one of the muggles got rather banged up when the helicopters fell out of the sky like that. Was one of them seriously injured in a crash, even the slow, controlled crash the wizards enabled? And whenever someone was referred to as Harry's "friend," Severus had a complaint about them. He kept his gaze on Severus, waiting for more.

"The Headmaster wishes to keep this entire misadventure very quiet, since I gather there was just a small, radical group behind it. That means he does not want to deal with this through the Ministry, or the healers who would be obligated to report certain . . . findings to the Ministry."

"And what might those findings be, Severus," Harry asked levelly.

"We learned today that apparently two demons, not just one, answered the summons made by Death Eaters in Hogsmeade last spring. There was the big one that Longbottom took care of, outside of Smithfields, but apparently there was a little one, as well. When Longbottom banished the big one, the little one seems to have escaped into the Dark Forest. Hagrid found one of the muggles with a twisted ankle trying to get away from it, staring at it. Hagrid shooed the demon off, and carried the man out, but he was unconscious. It is likely, well, . . . ."

Severus certainly didn't need to tell Harry about the consequences of staring down a demon. Granted, Harry stared down an Elder Demon, but Harry was a very powerful wizard. The muggle had no defenses at all, even against a baby demon. The consequences could not be pleasant. The two just nodded at each other in understanding.

"Can you extract memories from a muggle?" Harry asked. He still recalled clearly the release from the fog he felt after Severus extracted the horrible blackness that was attacking his mind after his own encounter with a demon.

Severus suddenly realized that he had never discussed with Harry that he chose that approach as the gentlest and least painful means of removing the chaotic blackness that had invaded his mind. His years of service to the Dark . . . no, to Voldemort, had given him ample opportunities to more forcibly remove thoughts and images from the minds of both wizards and muggles. There were actually extremely effective and efficient ways to do this, if one wasn't concerned about the comfort of the person whose mind was being picked at.

"I've never tried, and I'm not aware that anyone has. Of course, I really can't bring along a pensieve on a night raid, and if he has no magic and no wand, there's no reason to expect that the memory will come floating out of its own accord in the presence of the pensieve anyway," he began, with a smile at Harry's reaction to his reference to a night raid. "Albus is going to have a small group pay the muggles a visit on an upcoming moonless night, and while some will place memory charms on doors and other places so they forget they were ever here, your friend and I will locate this poor creature. I will enter his mind myself, and destroy the blackness I expect to find there. Do-able, but rather painful, to have thoughts destroyed like that. I have a potion that I can spell into his stomach, that will knock him out for a few days until the worst of the pain passes. Hagrid did say the demon was a "wee demon, just a baby," so I expect a manageable amount of blackness to contend with."

Harry seemed mollified by the description of the raid, although the description of Hagrid's reference to the demon drew a snort from him. "He's looking after a demon now, is he?" he chuckled.

"Indeed. The Headmaster was, as usual, far too indulgent," Severus observed, censure positively dripping from his voice.

Harry simply smiled back at him. "You know Hagrid. Never met a creature he didn't like. Is it making friends with his Blast End Skrewts?"

"No, apparently it's very timid, even afraid of the unicorns. Assuming the Headmaster hasn't come to his senses and already banished the thing from this world."

Harry tilted his head back and closed his eyes for a few seconds. His voice was strangely calm when he finally straightened up and looked back at Severus.

"I thought for a moment there that this was it – this would be some sort of defining battle. I was furious to be kept in the castle like that," he said softly.

Severus sighed quietly. He had to tell Harry what he knew, even though he did not fully understand why he knew this. "There will be three battles, Harry, and you play a role only in the third. Not before. Do you understand?"

Harry shifted in his seat, his attention captured by that statement. He'd heard predictions and prophecies before, all spoken by Professor Trelawney. There was a certainty in Severus' voice that was not dissimilar to the certainty in Trelawney's voice when she was communicating an insight, but of course, she sounded completely unlike herself at the time. Severus sounded just like himself when he said that.

Harry cast a puzzled look at his bondmate. "What makes you say that, Severus?" he asked, wondering at the statement so out of character for the man.

"I don't really know, myself. I just feel, to the point of being sure that I know, that there are going to be several battles fought here, and this was the first. You will be essential to the third – that will be the final battle – and you cannot be inserting yourself into the others. We can't risk you," he answered, looking rather surprised at himself for having said that.

Severus mulled over in his head what on earth had prompted him to make a statement like that, aside from his absolute conviction that it was accurate. Harry watched him for a moment, amused to realize that he could read on his face the internal conflict that Severus was apparently feeling at having made that statement.

"And what is to become of all that muggle machinery that now sits out near the forest?" Harry asked, to redirect the conversation away from the rather awkward and surprising place to which it had just ventured.

"I imagine that all the more advanced Charms classes for the next day or two will be out there, with the Winter Land Warriors for escort, shrinking things, applying featherweight charms, learning Leviosa Maximus. We'll move all those things off to a place near a muggle road, and get word to them to come and pick it up. There will be memory charms on the vehicles and items we find, so no one will remember why the things weren't where they are supposed to be."

Harry noticed the reference to a spell he'd never heard before, so he asked "What is Leviosa Maximus? Is that related to Wingardium Leviosa?"

The events of nearly a year ago – was it possible that just a year had passed – came back to Severus with that question. He shook his head slightly, marveling at the memory.

"They are both versions of the same levitation spell," he began. "Most wizards would find that Wingardium Leviosa has a weight limit on it; it almost never works for even a powerful wizard when attempting to lift something that weighs more than his body weight. For heavier items, most wizards would use Leviosa Maximus, which strictly speaking doesn't have a weight limitation. That spell relies more purely on the wizard's magical strength."

Harry caught the references to "most" wizards and momentarily wondered what that was about. Severus saw the confusion and continued.

"Last year, at the Winter Lands, when Remus Lupin and I heard you move the capstone over the Well of Despair using Wingardium Leviosa, we were both astonished. We'd marveled earlier when you said you'd been able to lift the monolith, but it never occurred to us that anyone would even think to try to move such a massive object with Wingardium Leviosa. I don't think we remembered that you were not yet in your seventh year and thus would not have learned Leviosa Maximus as part of the regular curriculum. Had that even occurred to me, I suspect I would have assumed that, with Miss Granger's help, you had mastered that, or some other powerful levitation spell that the world hadn't heard in centuries."

Harry smiled at the reference to Hermione's influence. "So, that was a mistake? I ought to have used a different spell?" he asked.

"Well, you said you lifted the monolith and we believed you. We certainly were not about to say anything to make you doubt yourself. But really, I don't think anyone but you could have lifted something the size of the capstone with either spell. If you have the chance to learn Maximus, I think you'll find it easier, at least."

Severus stood, and reached out a hand to Harry, pulling him to his feet.

"You prepare a nice hot bath by the fireplace in the bedroom, and I'll finish up in here. We both could use a relaxing soak before bed, I think," he suggested.

A scant fifteen minutes later, Severus was leaning back in a deep claw-footed tub that comfortably accommodated him and Harry, and was filled with warm-bordering-on-hot water. The darkness of the room was broken only by the candlelight from the sconces on the wall and the soft golden light flickering from the fireplace. Harry was semi-floating in the water in front of him, his head nestled against Severus' shoulder. This was perfection.

Harry sighed contentedly. "You know, I don't know why people insist on putting the tubs in bathrooms; this is so much better. Roomier, lovely in front of the fire. Not all tile and fixtures."

Severus snorted at the always-unexpected direction Harry's thoughts seemed to take. "I imagine the proximity to plumbing would make it more likely than not that most tubs would be in bathrooms."

"That matters to muggles, perhaps," Harry conceded. "And if you had a bathtub the size of a swimming pool, like the one in the prefect's bathroom on the fifth floor, I suppose that would make sense. But a tub like this – why not put it against the bathroom wall, just on the other side, if you need pipes?"

"An interesting design concept, Harry. And you have a point – having a bath in front of the fire is quite pleasant. Although, I suppose one might have a fireplace in a bathroom, no?" Severus pointed out.

Harry rolled over in the water, now nuzzling his mouth along the spot where Severus' neck met his shoulder. "Mmmm . . . the steam from the bath and the shower might make it difficult to keep the firewood dry."

Severus always reacted, strongly, to being nuzzled at that exact spot, as Harry well knew. This reaction stopped him from pointing out that, obviously, a wizard could cast a spell to keep the dampness out of the fireplace, if he so desired. Instead, the second part of this evening began, with a long, lingering and passionate kiss.

X X X X X X X X X X

The next morning, over breakfast, the students were paying more attention than normal to the copies of the Daily Prophet that were being passed around, although for once, their interest was more about what was not in the paper. There was no mention at all, anywhere, about the events of the previous afternoon. Given the propensity of the wizarding press to make things up on slow news days, a muggle military action against the premier magical school in England seemed an odd thing to miss.

The Gryffindor table was crowded with a sudden influx of redheads, with all the Weasleys in the castle for the birth of their new brother. The twins planned to take the floo after breakfast to get back to their shop on Diagon Alley, as did Percy to get back to his job at the Minstry. Charlie wanted to sit with Draco as well as visit with his brothers and sister, and he hadn't seen Bill in nearly a year. Harry, Hermione and Draco were the odd ones out in the cluster of gingers, barely able to get a word in edgewise.

Harry had hoped to have a quiet word with Hermione, to share Severus' odd "prediction" last night, and clearly that was not on, at least not at breakfast. He figured he'd have a chance later in the day, maybe a lunch or a shared open hour in the later afternoon.

The burble of conversation in the Great Hall was interrupted by the Headmaster shortly before it was time for those with early classes to depart. As he stood at the podium, the golden eagle unfurled its wings and looked out menacingly at the students who did not quickly pay attention. The room quieted in mere seconds.

"Good morning to you all!" the Headmaster began, his voice full of enthusiasm. "I will not hold you long, certainly don't want anyone to be late to their first classes of the day. But I did want to make you aware of a slight change in curriculum in all of your Charms classes today. Some muggles who meandered too close to Hogwarts yesterday left their vehicles behind, and we need to move them off to a meadow that abuts a muggle road about two miles from the castle. What a wonderful opportunity, then, for us to work on our featherweight, shrinking and levitation spells! Will everyone bring their cloak to their Charms classes today, and meet in the front hall rather than Professor Flitwick's classroom? Thank you all. Have a nice day."

As the old man took his seat again, the room erupted in chatter.

Harry stole a quick look up at the Head Table, where the look of vague nausea on Severus' face told him what his bondmate thought of that story. Severus hadn't mentioned that was how the Headmaster was going to explain this situation, but maybe he was hoping he'd have changed his mind or come up with something better.

The muggle-borns among the students recognized the military vehicles for what they were and it was all over the school that they had been attacked. Did the Headmaster not consider that students would tell their families what had occurred, and word would get out? It looked like there were guns involved. "Meandered" did not seem to fit.

Fred looked at George as they both rolled their eyes at the announcement.

"That looked far too hostile . . ."

"For anyone to buy that it was just a social visit."

Before they could get too far into their trademark back-and-forth delivery, Draco interrupted.

"Actually, I think the Headmaster is going to be able to cover this all up." It was clear from his tone that Draco wasn't entire happy about that – he still had his Malfoy sensibilities and that meant he was not a fan of the oddball headmaster. He looked at his audience, all somewhat stunned by his statement and obviously waiting to hear his rationale.

"Consider," he began, adopting almost a lecture tone. "None of the people who were raised in the wizarding world recognized the machinery that muggles showed up with yesterday. There were some flying things, those were interesting. The bursts of light from them? No idea what that was all about. There were men in several kinds of strange-looking vehicles. No idea why they make such cumbersome things, seems rather difficult to see where you're going, but I suspect it makes sense to a muggle. And the men walking around, loaded up with all sorts of stuff. Hard to imagine what any of that paraphernalia might do. Again, with the bursts of light we saw – no idea where that all came from."

Draco took a breath to gauge the interest of his tablemates, who were craning their necks to hear what he had to say. Liking the attention, Draco added his final observations. "If anything, the scandal, the big issue, if any of this comes to light, is going to be, how on earth were they able to see the castle? Muggles aren't supposed to be able to see Hogwarts, unless they've been told what to look for. That they knew we were here at all is the big mystery."

Bill looked rather surprised with Draco's insights. "But don't you think the Daily Prophet would figure some of that out, about the machinery? Why don't you think they'll follow this up?" In his experience, the press would love something like this, a way to stir up the wizarding world, generate controversy.

Draco waved rather dismissively. "I doubt the Prophet will be interested. None of us inside the castle heard anything, we just saw the muggles approach and some sparkling in the wards. Dumbledore had a small bunch of people out there with him making sure none of the muggle contraptions fell hard, and then he went to speak to them. He's now saying it was a group that meandered too close to the castle. The only people here who think they recognize the machines are the muggle-borns, or at least the ones raised in the muggle world," Draco added with a quick nod to Harry.

Hermione was the first to see where Draco was going with this. "You don't think we have credible witnesses that this was an attack, is that it?" she asked.

As much as he didn't like having to agree with Hermione, Draco nodded. "That's a big part of it. First, only wizard parents would even think to contact the Prophet. If a student here tells their parents the castle was attacked, they'll ask questions. The parents will realize that the idea that this was an attack was all based on what the muggle-borns or –raised were telling their children. The average wizard parent will think twice before contacting the press with that sort of information. Second, if someone does decide to contact the Prophet, we know what the Headmaster will say. The Prophet will figure out where the attack theory comes from, and I assure you, the Editor of the Prophet will not, under any circumstances, take the word of a muggle-born over the word of any witch or wizard, even Dumbledore."

Hermione looked disquieted by that, even though she'd certainly encountered her share of bias because of her non-wizarding background.

Harry had to comment. "I'd've thought the Prophet would jump at any opportunity to attack Professor Dumbledore." That was certainly his experience in the past, anyway.

"Oh, that tosh was the Ministry," Draco quickly answered. "Fudge was a lunatic, and was terrified of Dumbledore, and he pressured the Prophet into taking that stand. I know the Editor – he's been to dinners with my parents many times. He's an old-line pure-blooded bigot. Of course, he's not going to parade that around, but trust me, that's his bias."

Ron was the first to notice that people were starting to leave the Great Hall. "We'd better get going – we have Charms first thing, and we'll need our cloaks."

Hermione gave him one of her "looks" and simply pointed her wand toward the door. "Accio, Hermione Granger's cloak," was all she said. Sheepishly, Ron and Harry followed suit. It was necessary for all to stay in their seats for a few minutes, as cloaks were flying all over, summoned by the members of the various morning Charms classes that were now going to meet outside.

X X X X X X X X X X

Things were a bit calmer over lunch.

The Charms classes outside had been a huge success, to the extent that those who did not have a morning Charms class were not going to have a go at the muggle machinery. Ranks of students, escorted by a dozen Winter Lands warriors, walked out beyond the wards, led by diminutive Professor Flitwick. He spent the first half of the seventh year Gryffindor/Slytherin class teaching the rudiments of Leviosa Maximus, and the students spent the second half of the class practicing and applying the spell to the various machines scattered about. Most of the students mastered the new spell quickly, and paired off with their classmates who needed an assist. By the end of the class, all the muggle machines, including even the helicopters, had been moved into an orderly few rows to be worked on by later classes.

The shrinking charms most students had already mastered in fifth year were easily cast on the tanks and jeeps, reducing them all to toy-size models by the time the sixth year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were ready to leave. The fourth year Ravenclaw-Slytherin class then cast featherweight charms on the little machines, making it very easy for Hagrid to collect all the tanks, Land Rovers and helicopters (except for the broken one – Arthur Weasley nabbed that and put it in his pocket, noting that the muggles couldn't use one all banged up like that) into a wheelbarrow.

Hermione noticed as she worked on the Leviosa Maximus spell that there were no signs of any weapons about. She assumed that teachers had been through earlier to remove anything that might cause harm, whether it be ammunition or an actual weapon. That was exactly what had happened at first light that morning.

Hagrid had all that stowed in another wheelbarrow, on which a spell had been cast to make it appear that the contents of the wheelbarrow was a large pile of dragon dung, rather than weapons. He and Professor McGonnagal were going to take a walk right after lunch with the Winter Lands warriors to put the muggle items in the place chosen near a muggle road. She would re-size them and restore their usual weights, and put a short-duration obscuration spell on them to keep them unnoticed until tomorrow. The muggles would be provided directions to find their misplaced items tomorrow morning.

Hermione and Harry had an open hour late in the afternoon, and that was his first opportunity to speak to her more privately. She was busy rifling through a small packet of papers, continuing to annotate her article.

"How's that going, Mione?" Harry asked as they settled into spaces across from each other at the long Gryffindor table.

"As well as can be expected," she answered, not looking very happy. "The editors are fully comfortable with my research, but they are pragmatic. This isn't how the majority of their readers understand things to work, so they want proof, upon proof, upon proof before they are comfortable printing my article. It's frustrating. I've got so much data already, but they always want more."

Harry nodded in sympathy. "I've got something for you along this line, anyway, and I'd like your reaction to it," he offered.

Her interest perked up immediately, and she looked expectantly across the table.

"It's just something Severus said to me," Harry began, feeling a bit guilty that he might have gotten her hopes up over something rather trivial. "Last night, I explained how frustrated I was when I thought perhaps the war was starting and I was being kept inside by the Headmaster. He told me that he is certain that there will be three battles and I am not to engage until the third, which will be the last. He didn't know why he felt so strongly about that, but he was very specific."

Hermione duly noted what Harry told her, but did not look impressed. "You've heard prophesies before, Harry. Did it sound like that?"

Harry chuckled. "Well, the only one I heard making prophesies was Professor Trelawney, and she sounded completely different from her usual voice. None of those dramatics from Severus, I assure you."

Hermione laughed softly at the reference to Professor Trelawney, the one member of the Hogwarts faculty that she regarded as a fraud and incompetent. "I should certainly hope not!" she added.

Harry proceeded to work on his Potions essay while Hermione went back over the packet of notes that had been given to her by Kingsley just that morning, about the man who had tried to kill Harry. It would have been fantastic if he'd had some really odd aspect to his magic, so she could look for it in Harry, but nothing in here provided much detail at all about his magic. She sighed in frustration and finally moved on to her own Potions essay.

X X X X X X X X X X

At two o'clock the next morning, Severus joined the Headmaster, Mad Eye Moody, Kingsley and Hagrid outside the Great Hall.

"Kingsley, you've gotten muggle maps and know where this estate is," Albus confirmed. From the look on Kingsley's face, this was not the first time this particular question had been posed.

"Yes, Albus, I got a map and I've even flown over myself, last night, to make sure I can get us all there. It's a huge piece of land, very secluded and private. Looks like they have tents pitched at the southernmost part of the property, and from the pattern of lights, I'm sure that's where the bulk of the men are. Huge manor house, too. Muggle security all over. I saw dogs and men patrolling along the brick fence that circles the place. I imagine that Sir Harold is in the manor house, not roughing it in the tents, so we have to deal with two separate places."

Albus smiled. "We'll be fine. They expect incursions by land, not on brooms in the air. And we only need to actually see one muggle, the one that looked at the demon. Everything else, we can handle with spells on doors. Might take a while, but within a day or two, everyone will have entered or exited a door, or a tent-flap, and we'll have muddled their recollections of their visit to Hogwarts to the point that they don't even remember having been here."

Moody explained the battle plan, as it were. "Hagrid and Severus, you two will have to go tent-to-tent to look for the lad Severus needs to deal with. I'm sure Severus can handle anyone who wakes or gets in the way?"

While there was something in his tone of voice that might have been a challenge sent Severus' way, Severus simply nodded. "Of course."

Mad Eye continued. "Kingsley, Albus and I will cast befuddlement and short-term memory charms on all the tent doors. Strong enough to last a day or two, and to erase enough memory from anyone who passes through that whatever they've been doing the last few weeks will be very blurry. Certainly, all recollections of Hogwarts and their visit earlier this week will be gone. Then we'll head up to the manor and do the same there."

Albus beamed at the plan as he patted a pocket in his robe. "And I have a letter to this Sir Harold on some left-over muggle paper from the Grangers' machine, on which I told him that his men had left some machinery behind during one of their excursions, and explaining its location. We charmed it to look like it was written on a muggle typing machine, and I think it came out very well."

The little group went out on the castle steps, where their various transports had been assembled by Hagrid earlier that night. Severus and Kingsley had standard flying brooms, Mad Eye had his custom rider and Hagrid had his charmed motorcycle with a sidecar in which the Headmaster would ride. After a bit of shuffling, Mad Eye took the motorcycle so Albus could ride with him, and Hagrid took the rider, with the admonition that he'd regret the day he was born if anything happened to it.

They all followed Kingsley for the half-hour flight over the forest and lakes to the edge of Sir Harold's estate. He gave them a brief circuit to understand the layout, and then they split up, Kingsley leading with Mad Eye and Albus following, to cast the spells, and Hagrid and Severus to land near the tents and look for the injured muggle.

Once on the ground, Severus shrank both their brooms and pocketed them, and carefully cast shields on both himself and Hagrid to protect against the charms the others were casting, as it was likely that they'd pass through a charmed door at some point.

On his own, Severus was capable of great stealth; less the result of his years in service to Voldemort and more the product of behaviors that had been necessary to serve as a Head of House at Hogwarts, making sure students were not up to things they oughtn't do. Hagrid was another story altogether. Even when he refrained from grunting and commenting on things, which he did only after Severus threatened to turn him into potions ingredients, his sheer size and general clumsiness made small branches snap, floorboards creak, tree limbs break and several things the muggles had around the camp be knocked over.

By the time they were in the third tent, Severus had had to cast Petrificus Totalus on three guards who came to investigate the noise. The dogs quieted down with a wave of Severus' wand, and he was fortunate that he was able to deal with the muggles before they saw him, or he'd have even more memory alterations to do.

They found their man in the fourth tent, where he was thrashing about in his bed. He was alone in the tent, and Severus wasn't sure if this was supposedly a medical tent or just the result of others not wanting to hear their companion's nightmares. He stationed Hagrid by the door, to watch out for any nurses who might be attending the muggle, just in case.

Severus had entered the minds of unwilling muggles many times, often with an audience that not only did not mind the screams of the muggle as he did so, but actually enjoyed the spectacle. Tonight, he spelled a sleeping potion into the man's stomach to prevent any noise at all. A silencing spell might have worked, but as he wasn't sure what sort of work he'd need to do to deal with the blackness, better to avoid any issue with the presence of other magic in the area. Once he was sure the muggle would not waken, he aimed his wand and pushed into the man's head.

The man was young and probably undisciplined, given the chaotic mess found among his thoughts. After a few minutes of rummaging through random images, Severus detected a clustering of thoughts that might be trying to surround something, a process he'd observed in Harry's mind. There was nowhere near the strength in this mind as he'd encountered in Harry's, either of the thoughts themselves, their efforts to protect the mind, or, fortunately, in the blackness that was lodged in the mind. But it was still difficult and painstaking work. Severus had to work to free the thoughts from the tangle and push them away from the blackness, all the while shielding his own mind from the blackness as it fought back. After an hour, Severus' face was bathed in sweat, and he was even breathing heavily, but he'd finally been able to isolate the blackness and cast a spell to destroy it.

Severus rested for a moment at the man's bedside, before reentering his mind a final time to be sure all the blackness was gone. His last act, before enlarging their brooms so he and Hagrid could fly back to Hogwarts, was to cast a spell on the sleeping man that would keep him asleep for a full day. It might well scare his friends, but he'd waken in 24 hours even if no one found him, and the worst of whatever pain he was going to experience from Severus' visit would be over.

Severus stifled a yawn as he entered his rooms after the night's adventure, which included a quick chat with Albus, who met him at the castle door, to report on the successful outcome of his work. He was debating with himself whether to undress and get into bed, only to have to arise in less than an hour, or to simply summon a pot of tea and use that hour to grade essays. His debate ended when he heard Harry calling to him.

"Severus, is that you? Where have you been?"

Severus was hanging his cloak on a peg by the door when Harry joined him in the sitting room, pulling a wrapper around himself to keep off the chill that had settled into the room. Harry noticed the cloak, and answered his own question. "You went to the muggles tonight, then? How did that go?"

Severus took a deep breath. "Your friend Hagrid and I found the young muggle who'd stared down the demon, and I destroyed the blackness. That took an hour, so the others were back here long before us."

Harry was still looking at him intently, and Severus realized there was more he wanted to know. He was beginning to know the young man well enough to know what that might be. "No one was injured, us or them, and I put a sleeping spell on the muggle I worked on so he'll be unconscious for 24 hours; he will miss the worst of the pain. Albus, Kingsley and Moody put charms on all the doors at the manor and on the tents that will make everyone who enters or exits in the next day very befuddled about these last few weeks. They won't remember their visit here at all."

Harry stepped into Severus and held the obviously tired man around his middle, relishing the smell of his bondmate. For his part, Severus folded his arms around Harry's shoulders and accepted the comfort. He looked down and idly ran his fingers through Harry's perpetually messy hair, glad this long day was over and thankful that nothing of long-lasting negative consequence had happened.

That was when Harry looked up at Severus with a smile on his face.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. I spoke to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley tonight. They said they want to name their baby Harry and they asked me to be godfather!"


	54. Ch 131 Godfathers

Chapter 131 – Godfathers

"_Oh, I forgot to tell you. I spoke to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley tonight. They said they want to name their baby Harry and they asked me to be godfather!"_

Severus let a beat go by as he processed the news of the naming of the newest Weasley, and of the family's request that Harry stand godfather. He could not profess to be the least bit surprised that people who knew Harry would want to honor him in this way. Merlin knows, rabble in the wizarding world had been naming their sons in his honor for years now, and the recent proliferation of "Harriets" out there suggested this wasn't just limited to sons. This particular naming was at least sincere.

But being a godparent in the wizarding world carried very specific responsibilities, not to be taken lightly. Severus still believed that had not been the case in the Potters' choice of the mongrel to stand in that capacity for Harry, but that was another matter. Severus had always intended to have a conversation with Harry about this, but he'd miscalculated the timing. Given the responsibilities involved, it was tradition that no one who was not regarded as an adult themselves be asked to stand as a godparent, and he'd assumed he had time. Of course, their bonding had accelerated Harry's arrival at full adulthood in their world, so this was a completely appropriate request, from that perspective. But he'd assumed that Harry would not actually be approached directly until he'd at least finished school. Apparently not.

All thoughts of getting any sleep at this point vanished. No time like the present.

"Harry, that's quite an honor. Let's sit down and have a talk about what it means to be a godfather," he suggested.

Harry eyed Severus nervously, clearly concerned that he was about to learn yet another significant aspect of wizarding life that had managed to completely elude him for the past almost-seven years.

Severus caught his expression and simply shook his head. He said "No, nothing is wrong, Harry. I assume you accepted?"

He guided Harry into his spot on the couch and took his usual place in the chair nearby, not wanting to be too dramatic about this, as his reaction had clearly had rattled Harry. Harry nodded in the affirmative as he sat.

"Being a godparent in this world carries a firm commitment to make a home for the child if the parents are no longer able. For that reason, only someone who is in a position to do that, an adult themselves, would be an appropriate selection. I had imagined that this would not be an issue at all for you until you had graduated from school, as it is virtually unheard of for a witch or wizard who is still in school, even if of legal age, to stand as a godparent. As a consequence of our bonding, though, you became a legal adult in our world over a year ago, and would be quite able to fulfill your obligations."

Harry seemed a bit indignant. "Of course, I would fulfill my obligations! The Weasleys are as good as family to me," he growled.

Severus bit back a comment about Gryffindors and their utter lack of forethought in assuming obligations without understanding what they were, but thought better of it. Instead he tried to placate Harry and derail the snit toward which he seemed to be heading.

"I would not ever suggest that you would not honor something when you gave your word," he began, pleased to see Harry relaxing somewhat at his words. "You and I would jointly be quite capable of fulfilling any such obligations. And, before you think this is about the Weasleys, let me assure you it is not. They are about the only family that might make this request of you at this time whose request I would agree should be granted. There is clearly a closeness and familial bond there, and I am happy to encourage and support it."

Harry apparently hadn't been expecting that. "So what is the problem then?" he wanted to know.

Severus leaned back in his chair, relaxing a bit himself. "The Headmaster and Hickory McFarlen from the Ministry have been declining numerous similar invitations sent to you over the past year. I'll have to check with them to get you a current count. But just as you received numerous gifts in the wake of our bonding, and then again when you were identified as king of the Winter Lands and later the entire wizarding world, people have wanted to create a relationship with you, and what better way than to bind their children to you as a godchild? There were over three hundred requests last time Albus mentioned the tally to me, back over the summer."

Severus almost laughed at the look of shock bordering on outrage that crossed Harry's features with that number.

"I don't know three hundred people altogether. . " he sputtered.

"This has nothing to do with whether you know them or not. They just want to brag that you are the godfather to their child," Severus answered, but then continued as he sensed that Harry might take offense at the way that came out. "I do know people, personally, who have agreed to stand as godparent to as many as 50 babies over the years. For me, I think it's absurd, but there is a certain amount of honor shown when you are asked, and some people just love that. The odds are that all of those babies will happily reach adulthood with their own parents there to tend to them, so the godparents just send gifts at the appropriate times and all is well. If you wanted to accept all invitations, we'd simply start ordering silver picture frames by the gross – Gringotts can handle this. Although you would need to understand that there might come a time when you'd need to take on much more significant responsibilities for your various godchildren."

Harry looked dazed. "No, of course I don't want to stand as godfather for everyone who asks, whether I know them or not. I'm astonished that people would ask this of a stranger, really."

Severus shrugged. "That's how people are, although do consider that you are not a stranger to them, at least in their minds."

Harry nodded at that. He recalled his first meeting with Severus' extended family at Briarwood Hall, and how much people thought they knew about him, just from reading nonsense in the various magazines and newspapers. It still seemed absurd to him, but they did seem to feel that they knew him.

Severus went on, "As I said, this request from the Weasleys is completely appropriate, and I support your agreement to do this. I imagine you will be asked many times as the years pass, by the other Weasleys as they begin their families, and by many of your classmates. Not just from Gryffindor, and not just from your own year. And let's not rule out the families of your classmates. When word gets out that you accepted this invitation, and it will, I assure you, be prepared for more persistent efforts from new parents to reach out to you more directly, to get your attention."

Harry worried his lip. The wizarding world had rules for so many things – maybe he didn't have to come up with a way to avoid this. Maybe there were words already worked out that addressed this, properly. "Is there a particular way one declines such an invitation without creating a blood enemy, then?" he asked.

Severus was pleased that Harry saw the issue for the social form it represented, and chuffed at the reference to making enemies. "As I said, through the Headmaster and Mr. McFarlen at the Ministry's Office of Very Important People, you've already declined several hundred times. You tell the person who asks how very honored you are by the request, but you must decline this honor. You do not get into a discussion about why; you stop right there. You do not point out that you have no idea who they are, or that you are still in school, or that you have to get to a Quidditch practice. Once you have thanked them and declined, etiquette has been satisfied and they have no complaint with you."

"That's easy enough. I can do that. But I still can't fathom why anyone I don't know would even ask," Harry marveled. He was just able to add "Are you going to try and get some sleep" when the alarm in the bedroom announced "Time to get up! Time to get up!" When it realized the wizards who needed to get up were not in the bedroom, it jumped down from the nightstand and went in search of them. They heard it in the bathroom as it looked for them there, and then heard it skittering across the floor to look in the sitting room. When it realized they were both already awake, it quieted down and returned itself to the nightstand.

Severus took a deep breath and sighed. "Apparently not. I'll have a quick shower – that will wake me up. Would you ask an elf to bring some strong coffee? That will help, too."

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry looked around as he entered the Great Hall that morning and was surprised at how crowded it was for a Friday morning. It wasn't just the continued presence of some extra members of the Weasley family, either.

After their initial appearance en masse at Hogwarts shortly after Harry was revealed to be the king of the wizarding world, the number of Vikings who remained at Hogwarts to protect Harry had dwindled down to a usual compliment of 20 to 50 at the castle at any one time. There had been only about 20 Winter Lands warriors at Hogwarts at the time of the muggle attack. Even though the Headmaster had asked them to either stay inside the castle or out of sight, and the Vikings saw for themselves that the muggles could not even get close to the castle at all, they took the attack very seriously. More warriors had begun arriving via portkeys that same night. By now, there were well over 200 in residence in tents surrounding the castle. Most of them preferred their tents to the castle, and preferred to take their meals there, but a few enjoyed their meals in the Great Hall.

However, today, leaders from the Winter Lands had arrived, a rather unusual event. They were all in the Great Hall, at the much-expanded Head Table. Harry spotted Alrik Brand there, although he was actually familiar to most as he had spent some time at Hogwarts over the past months, rotating in with the warriors who came to protect Harry. But there were at least half a dozen Vikings up there with him, presumably senior members of the Winter Lands community. Harry recognized Asgeir Brand among them, the first time the Lord of the Winter Lands had come to Hogwarts. In the midst of all the enormous Vikings was the much smaller figure of Sirius Black, carrying on an animated conversation with Asgeir and Alrik.

"Bloody hell, it looks like we're having a convention here," Ron observed as Harry scooted in between him and Hermione.

"Looks like we have company from the Winter Lands, actually. The warriors have been arriving since the attack, but I see Severus' brother-in-law Alrik and Alrik's father up there at the Head Table. And Sirius is here with them. I wonder if something's going on in the Winter Lands." Harry answered. He looked around and spotted Neville a few seats away. "Hey, Neville. Have you been to the Winter Lands lately? Is there a problem up there?"

Neville swallowed the bacon he'd been chewing, and choked a bit, needing a strong pat on the back from Seamus to get it down. He looked up, eyes still a bit watery. "I was up there last maybe two weeks ago, working on the plans to prepare the farms for the winter. They were all very happy, said it had been years beyond memory that they'd had a harvest like this one."

Hermione looked up at that. "Harvest is over already? It's just fall!"

"But up in the Winter Lands, the end of October is when winter weather really starts. The days are already very short, a lot of the farms have already had their first snow. They've been working to get all the crops in for the past few weeks before the heavy snow covers everything," Neville explained. "I imagine by now, most of the farms are pretty well all in for the season."

Hermione, ever the curious one, wanted to know, "Is the entire country cold like that?" From what she'd learned over the months since the Winter Lands and its inhabitants came to her attention, it was an economy based mainly on farming and mining, and the weather pattern Neville described suggested that sort of life must be difficult, indeed.

"Most of it is. The compounds and farms closer to the shoreline get a few extra weeks before snow arrives, but they get a more bitter winter from the winds and storms off the North Sea. There are a few tiny pockets here and there that have very different growing seasons – places protected by rock formations, or near thermal springs, that sort of thing – where they can grow even tropical plants year-round. Those are very tiny and isolated farms."

Neville blushed when he realized that his exposition on Winter Lands weather patterns had captured the attention of everyone at that part of the table. It felt a bit like he was showing off. Harry smiled at his friend, as he thanked him for the information. It was about time that more people began to appreciate that Neville was smart, as well as strong.

To the more general audience at the table, Harry asked "Has anyone heard anything going on up there that would suggest why their leaders have all come to Hogwarts?" He'd not seen anything in the Daily Prophet, and Severus hadn't mentioned anything, but maybe someone else was paying closer attention to the news.

It was no great surprise that no one had any information, and the conversation quickly moved on to the upcoming Quidditch game on Saturday.

X X X X X X X X X X

A note appeared on Harry's plate at lunchtime, asking that he come to the Headmaster's office as soon as his last class of the day was over.

Something was clearly up. The Head Table had expanded even more. Diana Brand had taken Sirius' spot and was now sitting with her husband and father-in-law, perhaps not a surprise. Sirius was elsewhere, joined now by Remus. Also, maybe not a surprise. But the Minister of Magic herself was up at the Head Table, as was Lucius Malfoy and a few other people from the Ministry. There were a few others rather formally dressed. A tenseness settled itself into Harry's stomach.

Harry kept his sense of nervousness to himself, because the talk of the table at lunchtime was news from Ron. "Since Bill and Charlie are at Hogwarts, my parents decided to have the baby's christening this Sunday, rather than wait!" he announced with pride.

This was the first time Ron had demonstrated any genuine enthusiasm over the arrival of the new baby, and Hermione seemed to appreciate the change in attitude as much as Harry. They exchanged a quick smile at the announcement.

"And what's the little one's name, now?" Seamus asked.

As Harry felt the beginning of a blush forming, Ron replied "They are going to name him after Harry, of course, and he's agreed to be the godfather."

An assortment of congratulations were sent Harry's way at that news, and Ron continued, "His full name will be Harry Remus Walter Weasley."

Hermione was surprised to hear Remus' name in there. "I never realized that Remus and your parents were so close, Ron! They certainly seem to have known each other a good while, but this surprises me."

Ron agreed. "I was a bit taken aback, myself, but Dad explained that they'd always admired Remus and especially now that he was on the Wizengamot, it seemed appropriate to honor him like this. I think it's rather cool, myself, the first magical animagus, and all."

Since Harry already had the beginnings of a blush going when he was identified as the man for whom the child was to be named and its godfather, no one noticed that the blush had kept deepening. Possibly he alone among his friends understood the real connection between the arrival of this child and Remus Lupin (or, more precisely, the event of Remus going feral about nine months ago). Had Mr. Weasley explained the impact of feral transference to his wife? Or had she gone along with the idea of giving their son Remus' name on the same basis as had been explained to Ron? For that matter, did Remus himself understand this connection? Wait until he told Severus!

At least, the distraction of the connection to Remus distracted Harry from the other issue – whatever was entailed in a christening and standing as godfather was not something he had to worry about in the future. Whatever this involved, it was going to happen in just two days time.

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry was almost hoping that his last class of the afternoon, Transfiguration with Professor McGonnagal, would last longer, as he had a gnawing worry about what awaited him up in the Headmaster's office. He'd puzzled over what might have drawn the particular group he'd seen at the Head Table at lunch, and remained puzzled. The only consolation was: had it been something truly serious or dramatic, he'd been pulled out of his classes in the past and that did not happen today. It couldn't be that bad.

It was a relief, actually, to find that just he and Severus were meeting with the Headmaster, when he finally rode the circular staircase up to Professor Dumbledore's office.

"I assume you noticed we had guests in the castle, Harry," the Headmaster began as he directed Harry and Severus to seats and offered his traditional starter of lemon drops.

"Yes, sir. I've seen Alrik Brand here before, but couldn't help but notice his father, Lord Brand, was here for the first time, and some of the other leaders from the Winter Lands, along with Sirius. And then at lunch, all those people from the Ministry, and some I didn't recognize. Is something wrong?" Harry answered, a certain nervousness in his voice.

Severus looked concerned, as well. "I saw my sister at lunch, and she said that when Alrik told her he was visiting here, she took advantage of the opportunity to see him, and I assume that's Lupin's story, as well. But the Minister and Lucius – and those others from the Ministry and business – do not have that excuse," he observed.

Albus nodded his head, bobbing a bit from side to side.

"Well, there is something of an issue with the Winter Lands, and that's behind the various visitors we have right now. I believe you know that Mr. McFarlen at the Ministry has been receiving numerous immigration requests directed to Harry. It would appear that people from around the world want to move to the Winter Lands. He's been telling people that it was quite impossible – no infrastructure up there at all for visitors, and certainly not for longer-term residents."

Harry and Severus sent questioning looks at each other. Even with the dementors gone, the Winter Lands still had the Grendlings, and who knows what else. Plus, its name gave away the fact of its general weather. It was a harsh and dangerous place, certainly not a typical tourist destination.

Albus sensed their puzzlement, so he went on. "I gather Sirius has been quite successful in expanding market interest in their plants and potions ingredients, following on a year in which they had their largest harvest in memory. Things are changing up there, maybe a bit too fast, and business interests are pressing for more change. Lord Brand wants to get some ground rules sorted out, and asked if he could have a meeting here this weekend. Immigration is one of the big issues, and it's one on which they feel they need Harry's blessing."

Color rose in Harry's cheeks. "They said that they are a self-governing land. Why do I have to be involved?" he asked, anger rising in his voice.

Albus smiled, pleased at Harry's desire to remain out of the middle of this situation. "I don't think for a minute that Lord Brand does not know exactly what he wants to do. However, given the pressure he's getting from business interests, especially the ones with ties to the Ministry that have involved the Ministry, he is of the opinion that Harry's ratification of his plans will eliminate some of the pressure."

Albus watched as Harry processed that. "In fact, he and Sirius asked to speak to you now, before the formal meetings begin. They'll be able to explain what's going on in greater detail and answer your questions."

While Albus' words suggested that the request was to meet with Harry alone, it was clear from Severus' body language that he had no intention of not accompanying Harry. Albus noted with relief that it seemed equally clear that Harry had every intention of including Severus, even when the meeting included Sirius. While neither Harry nor Severus were particularly forthcoming with the details of their relationship, small signs like this confirmed to the Headmaster that they were not only getting along, but learning to rely on each other.

Albus ushered them out of his office and across the landing to Harry's office, where the door was standing ajar. Harry smiled broadly as Sirius flung it open and opened his arms for a hug, which Harry immediately provided. Sirius added a quick kiss to the top of Harry's head.

"Sirius, it's so good to see you. You've been doing well, I hear?" Harry asked in greeting.

"And it's good to see you, too, kiddo," Sirius replied, as he stepped away, his place taken by Lord Brand.

"Sir, very nice to see you again as well. I understand that things are really looking up in the Winter Lands these days," Harry said to the older man, as Severus and Sirius looked at each other with suspicion and exchanged the merest of nods in greeting.

The Viking had already shaken Severus' hand, and shook Harry's hand, also making a slight bow over it. "Things are better than we could have hoped, especially so quickly. We appreciated your help last winter. But we had no idea that your request that we allow Lord Black sanctuary would have such a great impact on the progress we would be able to make. That is at the root of our visit to Hogwarts today."

Severus ushered the other three into seats, and nodded to one of the ever-present house elves to bring tea and beverages for the group. As he the levitated the tray with cups, glasses, pots and bottles in the center of the table so each could serve himself, Severus took the seat closest to Harry, the look on his face almost daring Sirius to say anything. For once, Sirius controlled himself.

Asgeir ignored the beverages, and began.

"I'll start with a brief overview of the Winter Lands approach to land ownership, which is a big part of the issue today. All citizens of the Winter Lands have the right to a home and farmland, but we don't have land ownership as you know it here in Britain. We need all men and women to be able to support their families, so anything that might concentrate land ownership in the hands of just a few, and deprive it to someone by virtue of birth into a larger family, is contrary to the best interests of our society. When it is time for a Viking man or woman to separate from his or her parents and begin a life on their own, or with a spouse, they are provided with farmland, if they are farmers. If they require space in one of the compounds for their trade, they are provided with that, and can build on it what they want. A family might retain a farm or a home over many years, but the land is never actually theirs."

Asgeir stopped to pour himself a cup of tea, watching Harry's face to see if he seemed at all concerned by what he disclosed. Harry was listening, but perhaps not fully understanding where this was leading.

"We have a small population, and frankly, over the last hundred years, between the Grendlings and dementors, it got smaller. We once had many more compounds, several rivaling the size of the one you first visited in our lands, but they were abandoned when not enough people remained to live in them safely. Same for farms. As we had fewer people farming, for safety purposes, they worked land in places closer to the remaining compounds. We assign the acreage, and everyone has the benefit of the fruits of his or her own labors. This is an unusual approach, but it's uniquely suited to our land, and it's worked well for us."

"I imagine this makes requests for immigration from all over the world a bit of an issue for you, though," Severus observed.

Asgeir nodded. "Well, that is part of it. If someone is allowed to become a citizen of the Winter Lands, they would automatically be entitled to land to farm or on which to build a home. Until a year ago, that might have been just fine, actually, although of course, we had no requests for immigration then. Now, with much greater safety and significantly greater yields from our farms in particular, we are seeing much more interest, right at a time we expect our own population to expand back to numbers we haven't seen in centuries."

Sirius spoke up. "And the farms have come back, at an amazing pace. Neville Longbottom has been a wonder. He had some ideas as to what would grow best where, proposed some different crops, suggested optimal times for planting and harvesting. The Winter Lands was able to meet their own food needs this year, for the first time in years."

Asgeir added, "Not having to buy our food from the muggles this year – well, that was a point of great pride for us. And the potions ingredients trade! Lord Black reached several of our most remote compounds, and through his business contacts, helped us expand the number of items we could offer in trade. Your Mr. Longbottom helped several of the farms that specialized in growing for the potions market expand their yields, as well as their offerings. Beyond the farms, we were able to harvest more of the many potions ingredients that grow only in the wild, now that the dementors are out of the picture."

Harry was smiling at the praise heaped on Neville, and Severus couldn't help but notice. He was sure Harry would be mentioning this many times in the future.

"So, we want to expand our trade opportunities, but not at the cost of impairing our own population's opportunity to grow. Nor will we compromise our ability to generate the surplus that enables us to trade," Asgeir summarized. "Right now, we've got requests from several wizards and firms in Britain who wish to buy large tracts of land in our country. That land is our collective birthright, and we have no intention of agreeing to sell it. As we've considered how to go about protecting our land and creating an environment that will allow our population and economy to grow, we've decided it best to position this as a matter of our immigration policy."

He proceeded then to outline his plan.

The Winter Lands was going to restrict immigration to just those identified by the Winter Lands as persons the Vikings wanted to invite to have the right to live there. Only someone who had the right to live there permanently had any right to an interest in property in the Winter Lands. Others would be permitted to visit, for periods of up to six months at a time, as guests only. Specifically to foster trade, one of the larger compounds that had stood vacant for decades had been identified as a market town, a place where the people of the Winter Lands could meet with people from elsewhere in the wizarding world to trade their goods.

Harry was relieved that the Headmaster was right – Lord Brand knew exactly what he was going to do, and seemed to have thought it out rather carefully. A quick glance over at Severus suggested that he was impressed with the Viking's approach.

Before anyone had the chance to comment, Asgeir went on.

"While there will be no public announcement, we held a Council just before I came here, and voted to invite just three men to become citizens of the Winter Lands at this time. You, Lord Black, and Mr. Longbottom have each been granted citizenship and are invited to live there, with your bondmates or spouses, of course, and any children you may have. It is possible that we'll invite some more, over the years, but it's just you three for now."

Harry stole a quick look at Sirius at that last, and saw the big grin on his face. Clearly, Sirius had found some measure of fulfillment in his work in the Winter Lands. He'd been so on-edge and uncertain just a year ago, and it was a relief to Harry to see his godfather finally looking comfortable and pleased with his life. A smile formed on his own face.

Harry missed the slight sneer that had formed on Severus' face, as he pondered the astonishing Gryffindorishness of the Winter Lands, beyond even his original estimate. Severus was first to speak, though. "Might I ask, who has been seeking to purchase land in the Winter Lands?" He was still puzzling out the reasons for some of the well-connected faces who had graced the Head Table at lunchtime.

Asgeir had expected this question, and wasn't surprised that it was Severus who brought it up.

"The most persistent was Lucius Malfoy, a fact which my daughter-in-law told me would be of no surprise to anyone. He has not sought citizenship, but asked to purchase 1000 acres personally, and a business interest in which he seems to have a controlling interest submitted a proposal to acquire a significantly larger parcel. Thurston Landon has petitioned for citizenship and exclusive trading rights, and his business interests have sought to purchase a very large tract, indeed. Wizard Steel has indicated that they would like to acquire several hundred acres near the mines, presumably to build their own mills there. Plus, there were bids from half a dozen or so firms with businesses related to the potions industry for various parcels."

Harry followed up. "And citizenship, beyond Mr. Landon?"

"We have received at least a hundred individual petitions over the last few months, and we've been declining those, as I understand you have done as well through your Ministry assistant. Most concerning, though, have been the development proposals that accompanied the bids to buy our land. Most of the potions businesses want to establish not just farms or processing facilities, but communities or compounds near the farms and processing facilities, with residences for employees they want to bring there. They each estimate that they will have up to several hundred people as part of their extended business operations, once we count their employees, families, and the support network for a small community."

"A veritable population explosion" Severus observed.

Asgeir nodded. "And one we cannot afford, if we wish our homeland to remain as it is."

Harry was curious about Sirius's enthusiasm for becoming a citizen of the Winter Lands, but decided that was for a private conversation, not here. He looked instead at Severus, for a sign as to how he could bring his role here to a close. Severus seemed to be pleased that Harry had looked to him, and he spoke again.

"I believe we all appreciate the situation in which the Winter Lands finds itself right now, Lord Brand. Your plan to manage the situation through a restrictive immigration policy seems prudent and will no doubt be effective. Permit me to observe that you will have to be more to-the-point with Malfoy. He owns significant amount of land in several countries around the world, and is a citizen of only Britain. He will not see any connection at all between land ownership and immigration. It might be advisable to articulate specifically that non-citizens may not own land in the Winter Lands, to cover that aspect."

The tall Viking smiled at Severus and then at Harry. "Thank you for that advice, Lord Snape. Lord Malfoy has been, as I said, most persistent. It was he who got your Ministry involved. I will adjust our position to address land ownership as well as our immigration policy."

Asgeir then looked at Harry. "We have a meeting among representatives of the Winter Lands, business interests and your Ministry in the Ministry Annex here tomorrow, and a reception later this evening. May I state that Harry Potter has endorsed the policies that I have proposed to you this afternoon?"

Harry stole a quick glance at Severus, who gave him the merest nod. "Yes, Lord Brand, that would be very acceptable. I'd appreciate anything you can do to avoid giving anyone the impression that this issue is subject to appeal to me. I am happy to add my name to a decision the Winter Lands made as part of its self-governance."

Severus looked at Harry with pride, both because thought he'd handled that well, and he had sought out Severus' input rather than the mangy mutt's. However, it was clear from the looks Harry had given said mutt that Harry did still want to hear more from Sirius about what was going on with him and his wolf.

As they all stood, Severus observed "I have some work to accomplish before dinner. Lord Brand, may I escort you back to the Ministry Annex, on my way? I suspect that Harry and Sirius have some catching up to do."

Asgeir appreciated the offer of an escort – the castle was awfully big and offered far too many opportunities for a missed turn.. It was clear that both Harry and Sirius were surprised by but pleased with the offer of some time to visit.

Severus was surprised himself when Harry joined him back in their rooms just before it was time to head off to dinner in the Great Hall. He had just finished up grading some essays and was clearing off the desk.

"Severus, would you mind awfully if we took our dinner in here tonight?"

Severus' eyebrows arched elegantly at that request.

"Of course, I have no objection to a private dinner, and given the crowd that is in the castle, it's unlikely my absence would even be noticed at the Head Table. But why on earth are we in hiding here?"

Harry had the grace to blush a bit at the reference to hiding, for that pretty much summed up his request. "Um, well, based on what Sirius told me, it sounds like things are really heated over this meeting tomorrow about the Winter Lands. He thinks the reception tonight will be the opening round of arguments about all the different points of view. I am not invited to the reception and I want to keep it that way."

Severus chuckled. "A remarkably Slytherin approach to avoiding an unwanted invitation, Mr. Potter," he observed. "Not that I blame you, of course."

Now it was Harry's turn to chuckle. "I passed by the Ministry Annex on my way down here, and I heard an argument already going on in there, even though the door was closed. I'm pretty sure it was Mr. Malfoy yelling at someone, insisting that they support him. Of course, it might have involved something that had nothing to do with the Winter Lands, but given everything, chances are it did."

Severus' heart sang at Harry's use of the man's formal name, ignoring the oft-extended request that Harry call him "Lucius." He also cursed himself for not remembering that Lucius was in the castle. Even when the place was as full as it was right now, he truly hated the idea of Lucius have any chance of access to Harry without his presence.

"I suspect you are correct to assume it was connected to the Winter Lands, just by dint of the fact that the conversation was happening here, now. Although I am also certain that Lucius has expressed those sentiments to Ministry leadership on numerous issues, many times. I'm glad to hear the door was closed, in any event."

While the house elves were already tasked with serving dinner to a full castle and a triple-sized Head Table in the Great Hall, they were absolutely delighted to hear from Master Harry Potter's Beloved Bondmate, and even more thrilled to be asked to deliver dinner for him and Master Harry Potter to their rooms. As the two wizards tucked into their favorite dinners mere moments later, Harry told Severus about his chat with Sirius.

"Sirius told me that he's met loads of farmers and people who harvest potions ingredients, and they all want to expand their markets. That Mr. Landon he's been doing business with? He has done fantastically well this year, and it really bothered Sirius that now he wanted exclusive trading rights to potions ingredients in the Winter Lands. Even Sirius wasn't working with him exclusively! Of course, he's not going to get any such thing. It bothered Sirius enough that he is thinking of ending his relationship with the Landon firm entirely. We met Mr. Landon's son – remember? The one who came though the floo with Mr. Malfoy when Voldemort attacked Malfoy Manor?"

Severus had to admit, that was one of the more memorable moments of all those spent in Harry's offices up in the tower. "Yes, yes, of course, I remember. That particular arrival was one I doubt I'll ever forget. But, take a breath. Eat something," he admonished.

After assuring himself that Harry was, in fact, eating his dinner, Severus felt it was safe to allow some conversation to resume. "So, Mr. Landon's plans to create a monopoly on the potions ingredients in the Winter Lands have fallen through?" he began. Severus knew that potions ingredients from the Winter Lands already commanded a premium in the market place, and as a Potions Master, it offended him that those already steep prices might be driven even higher by a particularly venal distributor. He suspected that the extra money the consumers would have to pay in that case would not be going into the pockets of the Vikings.

Harry nodded, his mouth working on a large piece of roast.

"I'm glad. Your dogfather at least accomplished that, then."

Harry smiled. It really pleased him that Severus and Sirius were at last not each totally riled by the other. It was at best an uneasy truce – he'd seen the curt nods that passed as a greeting between the two upstairs before. But they'd actually refrained from hostilities in front of Lord Brand at the meeting.

A bigger achievement was the fact that neither had been particularly snippy in references to the other when he'd spoken to them privately. Sirius was the most surprising, as he'd never before demonstrated an ability to keep his emotions in check when anything connected to Severus was in the conversation. Granted, their conversation had really been about his plans with Remus, not anything connected to Severus, but it was pleasant to have a talk without having to hear invective heaped on his bondmate. And now, even Severus was being remarkably calm, and had even paid Sirius a compliment!

Having now swallowed, Harry continued. "Anyway, Sirius is rethinking his arrangement with the Landons. He's got another big project lined up, anyway. Lord Brand has asked him to set up the market town. He's got a great big compound, and he's working with some wizard architect firm in London to design it. And get this – he's opening a large inn! People who come up there to the market, who want to spend overnight rather than portkey right home, are going to need a place to sleep. The Vikings have people who run tea rooms and pubs in their compounds, but they've never had an inn up there, so they asked him to set one up."

Severus was taken aback. What on earth did Sirius know about that business? His years in Azkaban could hardly qualify as training in the hospitality industry! Maybe he'd done some travelling as a younger man, but even once he escaped from Azkaban, his status as one of the wizarding world's most wanted convicts would have prevented him from using the services of any reputable inn or hotel.

With an inward sneer, Severus chalked this up to yet more of the Gryffindor tendency to rush forward with no thought whatsoever. This appeared to be a trait the Hogwart's Gryffindors shared with the entire populace of the Winter Lands.

"And, he and Remus are going to build a house for themselves up there, too!" Harry enthused. "They use the house at Grimmauld Place when they need to be in London, but Sirius said he and Remus have been talking about getting a place for holidays. They both love the freedom of the forests in the Winter Lands, and of course, even the Grendlings give Mooney and Padfoot a wide berth, so it's not a particularly dangerous place for them. There was a small unused compound close to the one that will be the market town, and Lord Brand is going to let Sirius use that one."

Severus was inwardly pleased with this development, more than he could explain to Harry. While the dog and the wolf had been at Hogwarts only infrequently this year, he was acutely aware that could change. Lupin had his Ministry work in London, and it would seem that Black was quite busy up north. It just felt better to Severus knowing that the two were less likely to consider Hogwarts a good mid-way meeting point, if they had an alternative residence at which to rendezvous.

Harry rambled on for a bit longer, sharing far more about the two Marauders activities than could possibly matter to his bondmate. However, he remembered what he learned at lunch, and realized to his surprise that Sirius hadn't mentioned it.

"Oh, and did you know? The little Weasley baby is going to be named Harry Remus Walter Weasley?"

Severus wondered if this was a test to see if he'd actually been listening to the prattle, and he looked up from his dessert sharply.

Harry was grinning as he caught Severus' eye. "Really. Ron told us at lunch. The christening is this Sunday. Ron explained that his father had decided to honor Remus as an old friend, the first magical animagus, and a member of the Wizengamot. What do you think?"

For once, Severus had been told something to which he had no response other than to burst out laughing, joined quickly by Harry.

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry heard from Draco at breakfast a bit about the reception Friday evening. While Lord Brand had not divulged what his answer was going to be at the meeting on Saturday, he had made some comments at the reception that his father interpreted as bad news for his bid to purchase land in the Winter Lands. Several of the other witches and wizards representing various business interests were similarly concerned about where this was all heading. Draco's father and three or four others had said that they were going to try to talk to Potter about this, giving Harry all the incentive he needed to stay out of circulation until the meeting was under way.

Harry's practice of sitting with his classmates rather than at the Head Table was his salvation here. He saw Severus fielding some questions as he took his seat, but Harry himself ate and was safely out of the Great Hall before any of the self-important luminaries could get to him. And he kept it that way. He spent the morning in his rooms, and he used one of the little-known exits from the castle down by the dungeons to depart for the Quidditch pitch

Most of the dignitaries were gone from Hogwarts by the time the Hufflepuff Seeker caught the Golden Snitch, propelling the Badgers to victory over the Ravenclaws. As Harry joined the masses moving along back to the castle for lunch, he and his friends kept a wary eye out for any adult dressed too finely for a brisk morning game of Quidditch.

Lord Brand had listened to the impassioned pleas from assorted business interests at the meeting for an hour before he ended the debate with his own announcement of the decisions that he and his Council had reached on these matters, none of which were changed as a results of the arguments advanced that morning. Not too surprisingly, his announcement had been met with heated protests by the businessmen, quelled slightly by Lord Brand's added observation that Harry Potter supported the Winter Lands in this decision and would entertain no appeals on this subject. Minister Bones was herself then subjected to those appeals, but she recognized them as the venting they were; she had no authority here, especially if Mr. Potter had agreed with Lord Brand and said he wanted nothing to do with this issue himself. While politics dictated that she be here, she was inwardly very pleased with both the eventual outcome and with Mr. Potter's position.

Minister Bones was not among those who left in pique after the meeting ended, as she wanted to look in on Molly Weasley and see the new baby. She wasn't particularly close to the Weasleys, but knew Arthur from work and had heard that Harry Potter himself had agreed to stand as the child's godfather. She'd mentioned her plan for this visit to Diana Brand at the reception, and was not terribly surprised that the other woman proposed to join her.

Molly was pleased for the visit of two such prominent women, and they took lunch with her in her rooms off the Infirmary, joined by Poppy Pomfrey. Of course, Poppy knew Amelia well, as they had been students at Hogwarts together, albeit in different Houses. The Minister, now Amelia to the others, was happy to congratulate a member of the Ministry family on the birth of a baby, especially at a time otherwise so occupied with concerns of war and destruction.

Diana Brand was unknown personally to her luncheon companions, although Molly knew that she was Severus' sister. In the quiet conversation over lunch, she showed herself to be a warm and witty woman, a mother of two herself and clearly quite fond of her oldest brother.

As a consequence of the lovely time the women had over lunch, Molly noted that the new baby was to be christened the next morning and she'd be delighted if Amelia and Diana, and Diana's husband and father, wished to join them in the celebration. Only as an afterthought did Molly mention that Harry was to stand godfather for the baby, and that Remus Lupin, as well as his bondmate Sirius Black, would be there as well.

X X X X X X X X X X

The christening of Harry Remus Walter Weasley was held in the castle, given all that was going on in the world and who was participating in this particular rite. The vicar of the church in Hogsmead, the same man who had married the Weasleys themselves many years ago, was happy to travel to the castle after services at his church in town were concluded, to perform the christening. The castle was happy to configure the Room of Requirement into a small chapel with an exact replica of the baptismal font that stood in the church. And the house elves were happy to provide a complete excess of food and beverages when the service was over to celebrate the occasion.

The whole event happened quickly enough that Harry's nerves never got the best of him. He stood where he'd been told to stand, responded as he'd been instructed, and all went well. Little Harry cried a bit as the cool water was poured on his head, but the fussing subsided quickly with Molly's expert soothing.

It wasn't quite the private affair that he'd expected, but that was surprisingly alright. Just having the immediate Weasley family alone would have meant a good crowd, but "family" for an event like this included a number of Weasley and Prewitt aunts, uncles and cousins. He idly considered that Draco Malfoy now fit into the "family" category here, standing as he was with Charlie – how strange was that? He wasn't quite sure where to fit Hermione and her parents. Did he need an "almost family" category? Or maybe they were seen as already "family"? The "old friends" category expanded the numbers to encompass the people who were not family by birth but in pretty much every other way, like Madam Pomfrey. Harry decided that he and Severus, together with Diana, Alrik and Asgeir, Remus and Sirius, and even Minister Bones, were in the "new friends" category, no less welcome than anyone else.

Harry's heart swelled with a feeling of belonging.

The formalities concluded, the room reconfigured, from a church to a comfortable salon, with sunny views of the lake beyond tall curtained windows. Some of the older aunts sought out the comfortable-looking chairs and settees arranged near small tables, while others in attendance mingled and caught up with each other. Harry happily accepted the good wishes and congratulations from many, and posed for more photographs with his godson than might have been strictly necessary, but he even managed to get Severus into a few, to his great delight.

He kept an eye on Severus, noting with glee that Severus seemed to be doing the same to him. Severus was standing with his sister and her husband, which was a safe arrangement, given that Sirius was a large in the crowd. It appeared that Remus was sticking with his bondmate, but still better to keep Severus occupied.

When Harry was finally able to escape into the crowd and mingle a bit, his path toward Severus took him past a table full of Prewitts, with whom he had to stop for introductions and a chat for a few minutes, then Lord Brand, who had just parted from a few words with Sirius and Remus.

Lord Brand seemed pleased to see Harry. "Ah, Lord Potter, congratulations, to you and your godson! What a lovely ceremony, and I have conveyed to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley how honored my family was to have been invited to be here for this happy event."

Harry was equally pleased to see the Lord of the Winter Lands. "Thank you, sir. I understand that Diana joined Minister Bones in a visit to Mrs. Weasley after the meeting yesterday, and how nice that you were all able to come today." He'd gotten the barest of information (no doubt slanted toward his father's perspective) from Draco about the meeting, and he was bursting with curiosity. "Sir, if I may ask, how do you feel the meeting went?"

Asgeir chuckled. "It went as I expected it would go, Lord Potter. Much fussing and posturing, all driven by self-interest and greed. I'd not given much away at the reception, so I let them all have a few minutes at the start of the meeting to make their points, but it still all came down to greed. After allowing the businessmen and private parties to state their cases, I stated our position. Some seemed to have expected this, others seemed furious. I cut off the arguments with the statement that you were in agreement with our approach and would entertain no appeals from this decision of ours. I got the impression that your Minister agreed with us, even though she had to endure some of the fussing and complaining herself."

Harry was pleased how Lord Brand had handled the situation. While it was possible that someone had spoken to Severus or the Headmaster, or maybe Mr. McFarlen was fielding requests, but he'd heard absolutely nothing himself about the outcome of that meeting. He smiled at the older man warmly, as he said "I appreciate how this all turned out, Lord Brand."

Then it occurred to Harry to ask about some that had occurred to him after Sirius told him about his plans to build a home up in the Winter Lands. The two men were huddled in conversation for a good fifteen minutes, as Harry posed his questions and Lord Brand provided information. Harry looked very pleased indeed by the time he shook the older man's hand in parting, and went in search of his bondmate.

A/N – Sorry this chapter took as long as it did to finish. It proved harder to write than I'd expected. And if you're enjoying the story, I'd really appreciate a comment or review (and I welcome constructive criticism, if you think I've lost my way here). Thanks.


	55. Ch 132 Misperceptions

Chapter 132 – Misperceptions

Petunia was fussing nervously over dinner. Oh, the food was cooked just fine, and there was plenty of meat and potatoes, and a nice pudding for dessert, no problem there. But this was the first night in weeks, literally weeks, that her Vernon was coming home for dinner with her!

She wasn't sure if this was all just because he'd gotten so wrapped up in this anti-magic movement, or if he'd found someone else. She had heard some gossip that afternoon from Clarice, the woman three houses up the road, about Helen, Clarice's back-yard neighbor. Petunia didn't know Helen, but that wasn't the point. It seems that Helen's husband had been making himself scarce for a few months, and suddenly announced one evening after dinner that he'd met someone else and wanted a divorce.

Vernon did not appear to be the runaround type, but, really, how can you tell? He was making a good living nowadays at Grunnings, and his prospects seemed particularly bright right now at the firm. Would someone else have set her cap for Vernon? More to the point, would he consider such an overture?

She took some extra time with her nicest table settings, even giving Vernon's silverware a bit of polish, no easy task as she had to hold it with a thick towel. As she polished, she mused to herself that something very substantial must have happened to her system, as she still couldn't tolerate the touch of silverware. That had not eased one bit since she returned from Hogwarts. It nagged in the back of her mind that she was still able to wear her silver jewelry without this awful burning, but she finally concluded that there must be something different in the metal formulation used for necklaces as opposed to forks. At least she still had the little dagger, and had gotten quite proficient using it. Otherwise, she'd be doomed to a diet of finger foods.

Vernon waddled in at half past five, seeming in a jovial mood. She greeted him with a peck on the cheek, as usual, but watched him with unusual intensity.

"Ah, Pet, what a day, what a day!" he sighed. "The big contract with Sir Harold's firm closed today, and two other gentlemen I've recently met stopped by the office this afternoon to sign contracts on behalf of their businesses, as well. Grunnings hasn't seen a week like this in the firm's history, I tell you. I had a call from Mr. Atherton at the home office – the Chairman himself!"

Vernon preened and puffed, and Petunia could see him reliving that call in his head.

"How wonderful, Vernon," she enthused on cue. "I am so proud of you! And you were even able to come home for dinner this evening – isn't that wonderful, too!"

She put the serving plates on the table, and almost as an afterthought, found the etched wine glasses in the back of the breakfront and got out a stepstool to look for the bottle of expensive wine they'd been saving on the top shelf in the pantry. She dusted it off, and rummaged for a corkscrew, finally presenting it to Vernon to open, as she put the good glasses on the table. She was beginning to relax a bit; Vernon's coming home for dinner seemed to be a celebration, and not the opportunity to deliver bad news.

Over said dinner, and wine, Vernon did share some news from the anti-magic front.

"Sir Harold called me this morning, Pet. A bit of a conference call, actually. Difficult conversation, about the movement, you know," he said, with a jowly shake of his head.

She imagined it was all over the office within 30 seconds of his assistant putting the call through to Vernon, that Sir Harold Beckwith had called Mr. Dursley. Miss Enderlee would see to that. She smiled encouragingly

"He'd assembled some like-minded young men, and they planned to take action against that blasted castle. I thought that they were a bit hasty, and Charles Frost - you remember me mentioning him, don't you, Pet? - agreed with me. We felt we needed to be more cautious about this, but Sir Harold wanted to rush off and do something."

Vernon took a moment to pat his lips with his napkin, as he gathered his thoughts. "Charles seems to have been studying this magic nonsense for a while, and had some suspicion that they'd have defenses we didn't understand. Anyway, Sir Harold and his troops moved against the castle yesterday, and it was a total disaster. No one hurt, but absolutely no damage inflicted, either. Charles is of the opinion that the freaks have some mumbo-jumbo that acts like a barrier around the castle. I gather Sir Harold approached the castle with airships, and artillery and absolutely nothing got through, nothing at all. One of the airships even crashed into the magic shield, and was a total loss!"

Petunia listened in horror. That was a school, and Vernon knew it. How could they send troops and what sounded like big guns, for goodness sake, to attack a school? Had Vernon even told them it was a school, not really a castle fortress?

Vernon mistook the look on her face as concern for good, normal people who might have been the worse for wear after having tried to take on the scourge of magic, and he went on (and on, and on). About what he had said to Sir Harold, recommending caution. About what Charles Frost said about it, and other things. About what the Riddle cousins said about this, that, and the other. It was giving her a headache.

And that name – Riddle. She'd heard that before. It wasn't the most common of names, but she was sure it had come up someplace. Maybe the family was from around here, and maybe Dudder's played with one of their sons at some point? That must be it.

Eventually, Petunia's initial horror at the news of the attack eased into relief that apparently her marriage was not in jeopardy, and finally into boredom at the goings-on of "the movement." It sounded like no harm came to Hogwarts, or to the people who tried to attack it. All the rest was just so much nonsense.

That final sentiment was shared the next day by Lord Voldemort himself, when the "Riddle cousins" reported to him about Sir Harold's attack on Hogwarts.

"The old fool made sure nothing bad happened to his precious muggles?" he confirmed, when told about the strange-looking old man (who else but Dumbledore?) and a small group of others standing by the castle with their sticks (as the muggles reported) pointed at the troops massing outside the wards.

"Yes, my Lord. Sir Harold told me that the old man spoke to his troop leaders before they left the area. He told them they'd cast spells to prevent the muggle weapons from firing, and when they realized that the spells would also make the muggle flying machines fall from the sky, they also made those set down gently," one of the group reported. Voldemort sniggered at this display of maudlin sensitivity.

"One of Sir Harold's men has a broken wrist, we learned, and another is unconscious. He was carried out of the Dark Forest by someone who sounds like it must have been the gamekeeper, Hagrid, and he told the men that their colleague ran into a demon in the Forest," someone else volunteered. He thought it likely that a report of at least someone getting hurt in this venture would please his lord.

Voldemort's eyes lit up at the mention of Hagrid, his long-ago patsy. And there was a demon, right by Hogwarts Castle? This emboldened his minion to tell more of that part of the story. "We heard that Hagrid carried the man out of the forest, and Sir Harold's men were first not sure he was even human; they were shocked when he spoke English."

The Dark Lord honored that part of the story with a shrill, creepy laugh. Hagrid had been a big oaf all those years ago, but to now not even been recognized as human – how perfect! That kept the story focused on Hagrid.

"And when the men tried to surround him, arguably because they thought he'd injured their fellow, four centaurs came out of the forest to protect him. Damn near scared the troops to death, they did."

Lord Voldemort looked disgusted at the mention of the centaurs. Not just half-bloods – those things were half-breeds, and aligned with the Light, to boot. A dark shadow passed across his snake-like features. In response, the story arc immediately shifted back to the injured muggle.

"We hear the muggle was still unconscious when he was returned to Sir Harold's estate many hours later, and muggle doctors cannot rouse him. He didn't seem to have any injuries they could find, but they can't wake him up."

Voldemort considered that. "A demon near Hogwarts? What is the world coming to? If there is indeed a demon loose in the Dark Forest, that would be expected, wouldn't it?" he asked of no one in particular but in response got a roomful of nods. "If it's a small demon, the muggle might wake in a week or so, and if it was a stronger one, he will never wake. He might as well have been devoured, I suppose."

Voldemort cast a sharp look around the table, the better to keep everyone off kilter a bit.

"And this Charles Frost, and the other leaders of this nonsense? How did he interpret this situation?" he asked.

One of the Riddle cousins who'd not had a chance to speak took that one.

"My Lord, he had said early on that the wizards likely had spells and magic they could use to protect themselves, and that was why he advised against the attack that Sir Harold wanted to lead. He advised that further research should be completed," he began, watching the Dark Lord's face for any signs of areas of interest. A certain flexibility seemed to be in order, the way this meeting was going.

"We had a long conversation with him and Sir Harold yesterday," he finally proceeded, "on the muggle telephone. The other muggles defer to Charles, it seems, so he led the discussion. He asked Sir Harold many questions, and sought to clarify as much as he could about what had happened."

Another Riddle cousin interrupted. "Charles is clearly a very learned man, my Lord, with access to much muggle information about magic."

The original speaker reclaimed the floor, with the merest of nods to his compatriot. "I believe he will research this thoroughly. I suspect he might even be aware of the existence of wards, from some of his questions about the barrier. And his questions would certain suggest that he understands the inherent flaw in attempting to wage battle with mechanical devices that can be easily disabled with magic. I am sure he will conclude, in due time, that the optimal approach here will be with the traditional weapons, and we have ample stockpiles of those that we can make available, when the time comes."

He bowed at his Lord as he concluded his speech, momentarily making the others at the meeting wish that they had thought to do that too.

Voldemort looked pleased, both at the news and that final courtesy, and he nodded back. "Well done, my friends. This is proceeding nicely, yes, nicely. Watch the muggles closely, and offer your insights to guide them to the right conclusions."

Voldemort idly petted Nagini's head as he watched his Death Eaters take their leave, as he mulled the curious path events were taking. His original plan involved achieving the elimination of the muggles and the domination of the wizarding world through a spell, not a battle. Really, the spell was so much quicker, and tidier. That was not the path before him, however, so he continued to work to enlist more Dark magical beings and bring more Death Eaters to join his cause. In fact, he'd gotten an owl this morning from a group of rogue Goblins, introduced to him some time ago by that turncoat Malfoy. It had never occurred to Voldemort that Goblins had any political interests, but trust Lucius (which he would never do again, of course) to know of a group with some interesting talents and no scruples about using them.

It would be a battle then, just not of the sort he originally intended. And instead of a quick, global event, his eventual domination of the world would be achieved location by location. And this all would start, fittingly enough, at Hogwarts.

It amused him now that his evolving alternative plan to dominate the world involved pitting the ridiculously resilient muggles against wizards. Muggles were certainly numerous enough, and he didn't care a whit what happened to them. But the Light did care about their precious muggles. Their defense of the wizarding world would be compromised by their absurd notion that they should not harm muggles. He smiled, a rather repulsive smile, as he contemplated the carnage to come.

Then he sighed as his thoughts drifted to the fact that his first spell had apparently so altered something in the bodies of the wizarding population that his Dark Mark no longer took root on the arms of his adherents. If he still had the Mark, he could milk the power he needed from all those he had branded over the years, and recast that sleeping spell. That had been such a brilliant spell he'd come up with – building off an ancient spell but stripping out the stasis element. And that wasn't even the height of his brilliance.

The Dark Mark – now that represented the pinnacle of his brilliance. Really, it was fully worthy of the ancient Dark Magic it invoked! And worthy of Salazar Slytherin himself, whose research left behind in his Dark journals inspired it! That Mark enabled him to both summon his minions and milk their magical powers – such an achievement!

But soon after the Death Eaters were awoken by Potter, those marks faded off, and no matter how many times he'd tried to re-affix them to his willing devotees, they didn't last. He'd abandoned even trying to affix new ones months ago, as a waste of his energy. He was also loath to admit to anyone that he'd not been able to solve the problem of the Marks' repeated disappearance. It was easier and required no further explanations to simply abandon the practice.

X X X X X X X X X X

The men who'd attacked Hogwarts had returned to their comfortable tents on Sir Harold's estate in a sullen mood, indeed. There had been a long trek to the nearest roadway, and then a long wait for a caravan of busses to be organized to come and retrieve them. And then there had been no explanation at all as to why, really why, their attack had been so utterly futile.

Oh, the Brigadier and a few of the others had been overheard sharing what had transpired in their conversation with the old man, but it didn't add up. Putting magic, hocus-pocus aside, why were their bullets unable to penetrate the air around the castle? Why did their guns stop firing and their engines all stop working? And how could they get the Land Rovers and Apaches back?

And that forest! What on earth was that all about? There were things in there that just didn't exist. And what had happened to young Parker? The man with the broken wrist had obviously just fallen awkwardly when the helicopter crashed. If a large Apache could fall from the sky with badly bent propellers, and the worst injury was a broken wrist, they would take that any day. But Parker showed absolutely no sign of injury but he was out like light. No first aid they could provide in the field, or even the attention of actual doctors now that they were back at the estate, had roused him at all. What had happened to him, that the giant had to carry him out of the forest like that?

The agitation began to ebb a bit after everyone had a shower, a good dinner and a few strong drinks. What slowly emerged was a renewed enthusiasm and commitment that they wanted another crack at the magic castle, as soon as possible.

The leaders had gathered in a room in the manor as soon as everyone was back at the estate. The Brigadier was relieved to note that Sir Harold was not so much angry was very puzzled by the developments of the day, and anxious to "debrief," as he liked to say. There was the issue of the debacle of the attack, and then the vehicles and helicopters necessarily left back by the castle – how could those be retrieved?

His assistant was able to schedule a conference call with the movement leaders back in England the next morning, so the men at the estate in Scotland spent the hour before dinner, and most of their time over dinner, rehashing and discussing the calamitous events of the day.

The next morning's call went largely as the Brigadier expected. While he had participated in just a few calls with this particular group, he'd already formed pretty accurate assessments of the men, and everyone performed true to their colors here. It was clear that all the men looked to Charles Frost as their leader. Dursley was a blustering fool, and clearly relied on whatever Frost told him. Mason seemed relatively sharp, but at handling the details as an organizer, not as a leader. The two or three Riddle cousins were worthless, also led by the nose by Frost.

Frost did not seem to be very surprised by what happened, actually, and that got the Brigadier's attention. The Brigadier knew that Frost had cautioned against this action all along, but Sir Harold had been vague about why Frost thought it was a bad idea. From the way Frost was speaking now, he got a nagging feeling that Frost already knew about what sort of magical protections were in place. Assuming that was so, why did he not share this detail with them before hand?

Frost was making a big deal of getting at all the facts, asking many detailed questions and, it was clear even through the telephone, taking detailed notes. The story of what had happened was told, retold, and then several points clarified. Each of the troop leaders was asked to describe what it looked like when the bullets were shot at the castle. The story certainly did not vary much in the retelling, although the Brigadier thought some embellishment might have crept in from some of his colleagues. The leaders each relished their moment in the spotlight, and the Brigadier started to wonder if that might have been the point.

He was among the last to be questioned, and he was very careful to keep his observations as factual and un-embellished as possible. When there was a lull in the questions directed to him, he lobbed out one of his own.

"Mr. Frost, I can't help but think that you knew this would happen already. You said earlier that you were concerned all along that this attack would be futile. What, exactly, did you know about what we'd encounter?" he growled, trying with little success to maintain a civil tongue.

Sir Harold was a bit surprised at his employee's comments, but not embarrassed. He employed the Brigadier specifically because the man knew from experience how to look at things, especially military things, from an operational manner. Yesterday had been very disappointing, and it actually pleased him to see the Brigadier go on the offensive, even if it was against one of the Movement's leaders. He smiled slightly at the Brigadier and nodded sagely, approving of the question.

Back in Little Whinging, Cornelius Fudge was sitting with Reggie Mason and two Riddle cousins in a small conference room at Reggie's estate office. He was not completely versed in muggle technology, but was savvy enough to not gawk at the odd-looking box into which they were speaking, with Dursley at one office not far away, and with the others up in Scotland. Reggie had offered to host this "conference call" as he described this, and Cornelius was happy to allow him to do so, as he had no idea what this technology entailed.

Cornelius had not survived as a politician in the wizarding world for as long as he did without very good skills at deflecting awkward questions, and those skills served him well again today. He took a second to clear his throat and shake his head sadly at the three men sitting with him.

"Brigadier, I've been studying this scourge of magic for a long time," he began. "I don't profess to know everything about what they can do, and how they do things. But I have found references here and there to the kinds of magic that wizards can use for their nefarious purposes, and I've made it my business to learn as much about all this as I can. I don't have total recall, so I apologize if I might have been able to have foretold the events of yesterday had I been able to remember everything I've ever read."

Cornelius took a breath at that point to gauge the reaction of his audience, using the three in the room with him to gauge the likely reaction of those he could not see. He'd used that technique of apologizing for not being perfect before, with mixed success, but it seemed to be working here, so he forged ahead.

"I'd learned long ago about this strange ability of theirs to make places hard to see, and it even took me a long while to figure out how to see the damned castle at all. I was hoping that their main protection was in the fact that we couldn't see them, but I suspected they could do more. After all, over time, isn't it likely that someone would just bump into a building they couldn't see? I had no idea what they'd use, but have always harbored the thought that there was something else."

The Brigadier was sharper than the three men in the room with Cornelius, it appeared.

"But you've been grilling everyone about the shimmering air. You knew right away to ask about that," he challenged.

Cornelius was not going to take the bait, as he knew he'd been careful to react only to what Sir Harold's men told him first. "Well, now, Brigadier, that's a rather unusual occurrence, wouldn't you say? When the first gentleman who spoke today – Mr. Harris, wasn't it? – described the attack, he said you were shooting at the castle, and it did not appear that the shots were getting through. As I see it, something was blocking the shots, and it had to be in the air. Where else could it be, if you could see the castle, but shots fired didn't reach it? I did ask if there was anything visual about this because I'm one of those men who needs to see something to believe it, right?"

The Brigadier wasn't quite ready to end this discussion. "But what about the fact that the wizards disabled our guns and all our motors?" he probed.

Cornelius allowed another beat to go past, as he gathered his thoughts.

"I'd read once that they can use those sticks of theirs to make fire appear, and had wondered to myself if they could also use those sticks to douse fire, or prevent a spark from igniting. Possibly they have some odd affinity to fire in some way. I had wanted to see if I could research that further, because that would clearly make your choice of weapons an issue. Guns work by igniting a small bit of gunpowder, and if the wizards could stop the ignition, the guns can't fire."

Reggie helpfully chimed in, "And if they stopped the gunpowder from igniting, the magic they used probably killed the ignitions in all the spark plugs of all the engines. Didn't Merriweather say the old man said they didn't realize that would happen?" Cornelius smiled at Reggie in thanks. Actually, Cornelius wasn't entirely sure how all those muggle vehicles operated, and certainly would never have known what a spark plug was. He was relieved that the others immediately seemed to agree with what Reggie said.

The Brigadier quieted, although from the look on his face, which Cornelius couldn't see, it was clear he wasn't satisfied. He relied on his gut feelings, as they'd served him well in the past. He still had a funny feeling about this.

The conference call did not last too much longer, anyway. Charles Frost said that he would pursue some further research on weapons that would not be so easily affected by magic, and they agreed to speak again in a few days' time.

It was a very strange call, when the group reconvened those several days hence, this time with Vernon joining them in Reggie's even more crowded conference room. Cornelius was prepared to share some information about the old weapons, bows and arrows, trebuchets, things that did not rely on combustion and forces that magic can apparently easily disable. He also had prepared a few generic snippets about wards that could be thrown into the conversation, if necessary.

Sir Harold and the men joining him from his estate in Scotland seemed to have all but forgotten about their misadventure earlier in the week, however. The conversation took a most unexpected detour.

"The boys are getting a little restless," he reported. "Parker is up and about, just woke up as if from a long nap. A little groggy maybe, but none the worse for wear for being out for most of the week – the doctors still have no idea what happened to him, but the lad is fine. I've arranged for some paint guns to be brought in, and this afternoon, we'll have a big battle out in the forest near the camp. The boys have been looking forward to this all week."

Vernon, Reggie and the Riddles directed looks of great confusion toward Charles Frost, who seemed momentarily taken aback himself by Sir Harold's comments.

Cornelius was as shocked as anyone that the battle that had been such a massive thorn in the collective sides of all the men gathered at Sir Harold's estate could be forgotten so quickly. But it was clear that they had no recollection at all about their visit to Hogwarts. What , how, who – he didn't know where to start. A bit more clarification would buy him time to consider his options.

"All your regular weapons are in place?" he asked. He wasn't entirely sure what paint guns were, and how they differed from the regular guns. Maybe an oblique reference to the real purpose of the gathering in Scotland would rekindle a memory.

Sir Harold seemed a bit confused by that question. "Well, of course, old boy! The arsenal is full, the Land Rovers and trucks all in place. Although there is a problem with the Apaches." He looked to the Brigadier to take that thought further.

Cornelius flinched a bit when he heard the Brigadier's voice, after the man's antagonistic and suspicious attitude at the last call. But apparently, things had changed for him, too.

"We thought we'd arranged for all of the Apache's in Sir Harold's collection to be brought up to the estate this week, but we only have five of them here. I've been tracking back to see where the other one got provisioned. There were some records of one of Sir Harold's business interests requesting it be deployed to a mine in Africa, and we're trying to verify that they have it. But everything on the estate is in good order. The boys ran a small exercise yesterday on the estate, did a very creditable job, indeed. They will be ready, mark my words, when the time comes! They wanted something more akin to a real battle, so we're bringing in the paint guns. A bit messy, but they get to shoot and see what they've hit."

Cornelius processed that – paint guns must be just like it says on the tin. Guns that shoot out paint. If he lived to be 1,000, he'd never understand muggles.

And they'd gotten their vehicles back, too. He was pretty confident that Dumbledore would have moved them away from Hogwarts to be retrieved, rather than reinforce muggle awareness of the castle's location by allowing the muggles to return to see it. Maybe . . .

Cornelius' thoughts were interrupted when Vernon reached out and hit a button on the box into which they were speaking. "Let me mute the phone so they can't hear us," he said. "Charles, what on earth is going on here? What happened to them? They have no memory of the attack, just a few days ago?" Anger, indignity and fear were warring among themselves as the predominant emotion in Vernon's voice as he barked out his questions.

Cornelius carefully mirrored the concern on the Riddle cousins faces, which struck him as the most appropriate tone to take. Dursley was too quick to allow anger to take over, and Mason was probably scared of his shadow, with the look of abject horror on his face. No, concern, that was the attitude needed here. It was clear to him that some powerful memory charms had been applied to Sir Harold and the men with him at his estate; presumably they'd been applied by Dumbledore and/or others from Hogwarts, but he had no idea how or when. Perhaps the vehicles?

Assuming that they could not keep the others from listening in too long, he offered a hasty response. "I have to assume that magic was in play here," he said seriously. "What else would explain this? They were all fine, and they remembered completely what happened, the morning after the attack. I'd wager that the wizards did something to the vehicles, sort of like a Trojan Horse, don't you see? When Sir Harold and his men retrieved their vehicles and brought them back to Sir Harold's estate after the attack, the magic was released. It must have been some sort of magic to impair their memories, make them forget what they'd done. That's the only thing that makes sense."

Vernon pondered that for a second. Actually, none of this made much sense to him, but Charles seemed pretty confident, and he usually had a pretty good handle on things. He punched a button on the telephone to unmute it.

Cornelius nodded to his fellows before responding. "Well, we're glad to hear that all is ready, that's excellent news. I'm sure the chance to use the "paint balls" will keep the men sharp, keep them ready. When do the men all head back to their homes?" He completely redirected the conversation at that point, to bring it to an end so the others could develop a revised strategy.

When the call ended, there were looks of concern around the table, but Cornelius stepped in quickly. "All right, then, gentlemen. Some new plans are in order. We've learned some valuable insights to our enemy, and their nefarious resources, in this misadventure." Cornelius himself never used the word "nefarious" in his speech, but he'd noticed how the Dursley man always perked up when he said that, so he had begun making it a standard part of Charles' vocabulary. As if on cue, Vernon leaned in, all ears.

"I've been doing some research, going back to some source material I've been accumulating, to try to get specific insights into what might have happened here when Sir Harold's men fought the battle they cannot recall."

And with that, Cornelius led a discussion of spells that stop combustion and the use of wards. When the conversation got to the matter of what sort of weapons might be used in a battle with magical people, Cornelius was surprised that the Riddle cousins seemed quite willing to embrace the notion of using bows and arrows, let alone that they said they had access to a large cache of those very weapons. He didn't think muggles used those outside of certain sporting events, but he was happy to learn that wasn't necessarily the case. Good men – they were great allies here!

X X X X X X X X X X

Harry sat on the floor in the Gryffindor common room, basking in the warmth of the fire, leaning against one of the large sofas. He rubbed his shoulder, still a bit stiff from the very aggressive fencing lesson he'd had with Severus earlier that afternoon. He'd really thought this interest of Severus' in teaching him to duel would pass, but if anything, Severus had gotten even more committed, more intense about the whole thing. Harry could have objected – the lessons had already interfered with more than one Quidditch practice, and made him late for several study sessions – but he was drawn in by his bondmate's intensity. It was fun, surprisingly intimate even when they used the dueling space shared with others, and he figured it had to be improving his physical conditioning at the very least, with all that jumping and posturing. But today had maybe been a bit too much, as his shoulder was stiff and his neck felt strained. Maybe they should tone it down a bit.

Hermione, She-Who-Missed-Nothing, was sitting nearby and appeared to be absorbed in a grossly-oversized reference book, but she noticed Harry rubbing and flexing his neck and shoulder. When the group around Harry broke up, she took advantage of his momentary solitude to slip out of her chair and join him near the fire.

"Are you alright, Harry?" she whispered. "I've seen you rub your shoulder and flex your neck. Is something wrong?"

Harry smiled to himself, once again amazed at his friend's powers of observation. He was so sure no one could have noticed his discomfort. He also knew, again from long experience, that he would not get away with telling her "It's nothing."

"Just overdid it a bit dueling with Severus this afternoon," he replied, softly. "I should have thought to ask him for something to ease the soreness."

"You weren't hit, were you?" she asked sharply.

Harry mused at the image of his petite friend calling the feared (and significantly larger) Potions Master to task if she thought he'd struck him while dueling. "Oh, no, we were just a bit too energetic, maybe, in repeating some moves. He's really serious about this, you know. We work on things until he's sure I have them right."

"Well, I certainly would agree that if you are learning something, you practice until you get it right, but if you practice to the point that you hurt yourself, that is too much," was her terse reply.

Harry leaned in a bit. "Look, Severus is really, _really_ serious about my learning this. More than I've seen him with anything else. It matters to him, you know? I just overdid it today. He showed me a new move, brilliant, but a bit more involved that what we've done so far. I probably should have broken it down more, eased into it. I'm fine, just sore. Nothing to worry about."

The look on her face indicated that she would, in fact, be worrying about this. He thought to change the subject.

"So, how's your article coming? That final bit of research working out?" He knew she was frustrated at the suggestion from the editor that she make an additional effort to bolster her conclusions. They had discussed it and agreed that if she had any chance of challenging the orthodox view of these events, she needed absolutely solid research. Even the tiniest opening would be exploited by her detractors. While she had tried to convince herself that the editor's request would make the article much stronger and persuasive, it still irritated her.

But the question did appear to distract her from Harry's sore neck. "Well, I did study the material that the Ministry gave me, about the man who attacked Professor Snape. Nothing really jumped out, but it was a curious package of information. I've read a number of aurors' reports, and this was nothing like them – almost chatty, it seemed. I asked about the source, since it didn't look like Ministry work. You'll find this interesting. I got an owl this afternoon from my contact in the Auror's Office. Lucius Malfoy provided this information."

Harry nearly brought the conversation back to himself when he jerked his head up at that last comment, and winced as his neck muscles protested. "Malfoy? What's his connection?" he demanded.

"Per Piers, my auror contact, the Minister herself asked him to look into it. He has contacts in all sorts of places, and knew someone who has some special skills, I gather. Apparently, he asked this person to look at what the aurors had, and do whatever she does, and this is what she came up with."

"What sort of "skills" are we talking about, if I may ask" Harry could not help but respond. The idea that the Ministry was assessing the level of threat to Severus' safety based on the work of a possible charlatan bothered him greatly.

Hermione looked thoughtful. "I don't know, for sure. I am pretty sure this isn't the work of a seer, or anything like that. The actual information in the packet is very straightforward, very factual. Commentary from people who knew him or knew of him in some detail. Even a picture of the assassin taken several years ago. But I get the sense in there that something isn't being put in writing, something almost assumed between the person who wrote it and the person to whom it was sent. I can't quite put my finger on it."

Harry was relieved as soon as Hermione described what she'd been given. Facts he could deal with, not that gibberish that seers bandied about. Although, he was curious as to what Hermione would do to eliminate the lingering questions she had about this. He raised his eyebrows, a gesture of questioning. She smiled, and continued.

"So, of course, I couldn't leave it at that."

Harry chuckled in response, and earned a smack to his arm (the one that wasn't sore, he noticed).

"I asked the Headmaster if I might either seek an appointment to visit with this source, or invite her here, or meet with her at the Ministry. He is setting up an appointment with her to come here, next week. Madam Bunswill, her name is."

X X X X X X X X X X

Severus was seated in his usual chair near the fire in his sitting room. Instead of brooding at the fire, or reading a potions journal, he was staring at a small photo in an inexpensive wooden frame.

The photo had been taken at the Weasley baby's christening this past weekend, and was a gift to the proud godfather from the baby's parents. Harry was holding the baby, looking more nervous than anything else, although he was trying to smile proudly for the camera. Severus had been asked to stand with Harry when this picture was taken, a very gracious offer he had not expected. Somehow, and he had no memory of this, the photo captured him looking at Harry, rather than the baby.

He studied himself critically, and was reminded, once again, of his less than pleasing countenance. The fullness of his hair, now that he'd stopped slicking it back in the old-time Slytherin style, helped a bit, he supposed. He'd worn plain robes, not his usual teaching robes, but not the brocades and velvets that would have been out of place at this gathering. His posture and bearing were a plus, overall.

The expression of pride in his posture, of all things, snapped Severus out of it. It was a lovely picture of Harry and Little Harry. His presence in the photo did not completely destroy it, although he looked again at the expression on his face. That confused him. He'd have to think on it further.

He replaced the picture in its place on the mantle and made one of his evening visits to the Slytherin common room to check that all was well. The Prefects were particularly strong this year, and kept his snakes in hand. Tonight was no different. There were a few games of chess going on at the tables, several clusters of students working on their assignments and a few hushed conversations under way. All was in order.

Severus had just returned from his patrol when Harry returned to their rooms. He looked up curiously, as it was no where near curfew and Harry usually visited with his Gryffindor friends until at least then. Something seemed to be bothering Harry.

"Are you unwell?" he asked, some concern playing on his face.

"Uh, no, not really," Harry began, awkwardly. "I'm really sore, though, from our fencing this afternoon. My neck and shoulder. It's cramping up now. Before it was just a dull ache, but it is getting worse."

Severus frowned in concern at that news. "You said you'd blocked or dodged all the spells I cast at you. Is it possible that something got through?" he asked, mentally running through the spells he'd cast in their practice to determine if any might cause this particular problem.

"No, none of the spells got to me. I think I might have thrown some blocks a bit too hard, and maybe I overdid practicing that spinning move you showed me," Harry admitted.

Severus nodded. He'd actually wondered about showing Harry the Adrikov Block, a very advanced spin that was once a signature move among the more accomplished Slytherin duelists. He decided to proceed because he suspected the young man's natural athleticism and flexibility would overcome the issues you'd expect someone to have in attempting that move for the first time. Harry had picked the move up very quickly and then enthusiastically repeated it, probably more times than was prudent. Likely just a muscle strain, then, and not a delayed reaction to an errant or unblocked spell.

"I suspect you strained your neck and shoulder, then. Likely you worked it too hard with those blocks we started out with, and then I noticed that you lead the Adrikov Block with the same side. When did it start cramping?" Severus had already slipped into his Potion Master mode, getting the details of the symptoms and considering which of his potions and salves would best ease them. He rummaged in a cabinet for a few seconds before extracting a small vial and a heavy jar. Harry accepted the vial when it was presented and drank it down quickly.

"Ugh. That was nasty," he complained, making a face after swallowing the foul-tasting liquid. Within seconds, though, he realized he could flex his shoulder without cramps or pain.

Severus marveled to himself how easy it was to read Harry just by watching his expressions. He knew the instant the potion kicked in and stopped the pain, by the way distress melted from Harry's face, and then saw the relief as he moved the sore shoulder and realized it did not hurt.

Severus hoisted the jar as if offering a toast. "I have something here that might help even more. Let me rub this into your shoulder."

Harry shrugged out of his robe and jumper and took a seat perched on the arm of the couch, feet on one of the cushions and his back to Severus, as he unbuttoned his shirt and took that off, too. Severus took a generous dollop of the royal blue cream from the jar, and began to work it into Harry's shoulder and neck. Harry closed his eyes with a blissful expression, reacting as much to the cooling and soothing cream as to the expert massage with which it was being worked into his sore spots.

"So, is all well in the lion's den? You returned quite early this evening," Severus asked after a bit. "Or did this bother you that much?" With Gryffindors, it was best not to assume that they'd take a sensible step to address being in pain.

Roused from his bliss, Harry answered, "Oh, no problems there. I worked with Seamus, and Draco was there, on a Charms project. Then I played chess for a bit with Ron, and then I had a chat with Hermione. I suppose my neck was a bit sore, but there wasn't much going on, anyway."

"Has Miss Granger finished her article?" Severus had noticed that this topic had not been part of Harry's usual patter about his friends for a while, and was curious.

Harry nodded distractedly, contentedly flexing into the firm fingers kneading his shoulder. "Not completely. The editor pointed out a few places where he thought she needed to push for more details, and she's working on that. Oh, here's something you might find interesting. Know where the Ministry got the latest package of information about the man who attacked you? Mr. Malfoy! The Minister asked him to see what he could find out, and he got some lady to help. Hermione is going to meet with the lady, Professor Dumbledore is inviting her to visit Hogwarts. I think Hermione said her name is Madam Bunswil."

The fingers stilled for a second as Severus processed that last bit.

"Do you know her?" Harry inquired, reacting himself to Severus' reaction.

"No, I've never met her, but I've heard of her. As I recall, Lucius' father employed her at times. I wouldn't rule out that she might have been engaged by my own father for some projects. A person with curious insight into magic and magical people, very highly regarded in certain circles. I would imagine she is nearly 200 years old; I'm surprised to hear she's still alive."

Harry's brows drew together at that news. "Um . . . what exactly did she do?" he asked nervously. What little Harry knew of Lucius' and Severus' fathers made him wary.

"She could read magic and magical intent; presumably she still can. I believe she made a very nice living advising the old families about prospective business partners, maybe even prospective spouses for their children. Reportedly a very benign person, actually, for the company she kept." Severus was surprised at himself for being able to recall even that bit of information, after all those years.

Harry had now pivoted to look at Severus. "What does that have to do with the man who attacked you, then?"

Severus arched his brows as he considered that. "I do not believe that the Aurors ever identified the man. It is possible that she could identify him herself from touching things associated with him, or maybe, if she read his magic, she knew where he was from. I don't know what was learned from her information, but presumably she aided in his identification."

"Well, Mione is going to meet with her, so maybe we'll learn more."

Harry resumed his position facing away from Severus so more attention could be paid to the sore shoulder.

"Oh, by the way, I have something to tell you. I had wanted this to be a surprise for you – your Christmas present, actually. But Neville insists that I need to speak to you now," Harry said a bit nervously.

While Severus managed to keep the cadence of his massage, his eyebrows shot up at that last comment. He could not imagine how Longbottom, of all people, could figure in whatever it was Harry was planning as a Christmas surprise. After a beat, he managed a murmur to invite an explanation.

Harry took a breath to brace himself. This was either going to be absolutely brilliant, or a complete disaster. "You know that I'm now a citizen of the Winter Lands. It doesn't mean anything in terms of having to give up my British citizenship, wizard or muggle, it just allows me, well, us, really, to live there. I'm getting us our own compound up there, a holiday house!" Harry paused there, and looked tentatively over his shoulder, to see how Severus took that news.

Severus' hands stilled, and he stared down at Harry blankly, not quite sure what to make of this. Harry took one of the hands from his shoulder and used it to guide Severus to a seat on the couch in front of him.

"Look, I know that you have a manor and all, and I suppose some day we'll live there. For now, we have Hogwarts." The continuing silence made Harry nervous, although Severus' expression remained unreadable. He took another breath and forged ahead, speaking perhaps a bit too quickly because of his nervousness. "Lord Brand told me that there were dozens of compounds that were abandoned as the dementors took over, and everyone clustered into compounds closer together. I asked Neville to scout out three of the remote ones that Lord Brand offered me. Neville was up there Monday, and he checked them out. He suggested one that's on the far side of the forest we visited where Tante lives. Lots of great plant material in that forest, and Tante agreed to help us design a greenhouse. I want to include a massive potions lab for you, and that's where Neville said this can't be a surprise. He said that you probably have very specific ideas about what the perfect lab would be like, and I shouldn't even pick the spot for the lab without your input."

Harry stopped abruptly and watched for Severus' reaction.

Severus himself didn't actually know how to react to this most unexpected turn of events. It was insane. It made no sense. It was very generous. It was potentially quite the romantic gesture. It was far too close to the dog-father. He actually went to start a response a couple of times, only to abandon his words before they could escape, leaving him opening and closing his mouth with no sounds escaping.

Harry quirked his eyebrows at the display of his bondmate's speechlessness, and finally smiled. "I take it that this was quite a surprise," he allowed. "Well, Christmas morning won't be much, so I'll have to remember this."

Severus finally found his voice. "This is indeed a surprise, one might even say a shock. Thank you, Harry. I'm flabbergasted."

Harry went on. "We'll go up there over the weekend, so we can look over the compound and agree on the potions lab. From then on, I think you need to stay out of the process, and that will be your surprise."

"Have you actually thought this through, Harry?" Severus could not stop himself from asking. "I have no idea what the cost of the land will be, but a compound up in the Winter Lands – one unlived in for years? It might be crumbling, for Merlin's sake! You might have to take what's there down and start from scratch. This could be a massive undertaking, a project that might take years, not a few weeks. And cost thousands of Galleons. All for a place in the Winter Lands." He sounded more puzzled than angry.

"As a citizen, the land is mine. Remember, from the issue of allowing people to become citizens up there? Lord Brand told me that the compounds he was offering me were in good repair. The walls of the compounds are solid, and the house is sturdy. They have wells, and the one I want you to see is near a thermal vent, so there's some interesting stuff there. I spoke to Bill Weasley before he left, and he said that Gringotts has a division that can put up wards and connect the floo, things like that. I don't think this will take too much time, and not a massive amount of money. It will be a nice, remote place where we can go on holiday. And even with the snows, as long as the buildings are solid, I can get all the work inside finished right away."

There was a slight hitch in Harry's voice at that point, causing Severus to look at him closely. Harry couldn't help but notice Severus' attention, so after a moment to compose himself, Harry went on.

"I was thinking that we might, at some point in the future, need a place where I can be apart from others. This would be remote enough, and with a great potions lab, you'd have something to do there."

While Harry was fighting his emotions as strongly as he could, his face telegraphed his emotions, and Severus' heart broke at the sight. In addition to being a spot to spend holidays, this was a nice, remote place for them to go if Harry lost control of his magic and was a danger to others. He was still worried about that, apparently, and as committed as ever to assuring that he did not harm anyone.

Severus opened his arms, and helped Harry slide off the arm of the sofa and onto his lap, where Severus held him tightly.

"I told you, Harry, that I do not think you are in danger of losing control like that. You've been diligent in working on your wandless magic, and we've been strengthening your magical pathways. While the prospect of a private hideaway, even in the Winter Lands, is quite enticing, I am confident that we will use it and enjoy it as a break from time spent in more public places."

Severus felt Harry's arms tighten their embrace, and he held ever more firmly to his young bondmate. After a while, as he stroked Harry's hair, he buried his face in the place where Harry's neck met his shoulder, and whispered "Harry, you will not be alone. If you need to go away, I will go with you. We will make this compound our haven, if necessary."

They sat like that for a long time. At some point, and Severus did not know when, Harry fell asleep. Severus sat staring into the flames of the fire, not able to stand without putting Harry down and not willing to release the young man from his grasp for even the moment he'd need to stand up. Finally, with a wandless spell, he turned the couch into a small chaise, changed their clothes into flannel pajamas to deal with the drafty parlor, and transfigured a handkerchief into a downy comforter. He was able to lever himself around to stretch out with Harry right by his side, and was finally able to join Harry in fitful sleep.

X X X X X X X X X X

A/N – First, I have to let you know that Kila9Nishika has created an absolutely beautiful picture to honor this continuation of The Marriage Stone. Please go to kila9nashika , under The Marriage Stone, to take a look. (Don't forget to take the spaces out of that address if you are cutting-and-pasting.)

Second, nanami made a comment about the whole christening thing and wizarding religious traditions. As I could not reply in a private message, I thought I'd share my thoughts on that with everyone here. I believe that faith is a part of the wizarding world, just like it's a part of ours; JK Rowling just didn't explicitly include it in her books. We saw the ghosts in Hogwart's Castle singing Christmas carols, and we saw the magical citizens of Hogsmead doing the same. There are trees, decorations, and wishes of Happy Christmas among the characters in the books. Harry and Hermione found Harry's parent's graves in a church-yard cemetery, and it sounded like a Christmas Eve service was under way in the church in the wizard community of Godrick's Hollow.

Josephine Darcy clearly connected the British wizarding world to the Druids (with her choice of Stonehenge as the site of the Calling for Harry's "coronation") for purposes of the TMS wizarding world. It's clear that the wizarding world would date back at least to the time of the Druids, but I think it is also very plausible to believe that the wizards have lived among muggles to varying degrees since then, and it would not be surprising that they have adopted similar religions or religious traditions. Finally, we have godparents in both wizarding worlds. To me, godparents mean that there is the rite of baptism involved. I admit – this issue did give me pause to stop and think, but I ended up believing it acceptable to the story that the Weasley baby would be christened.

A third observation of no particular relevance to anything: I went to see the Harry Potter Exhibition in New York City, and among the artifacts on display were Severus Snape's robes. The audio provided comments from the designer, who noted that she was often asked why Snape's wardrobe never changed. Her answer: the original robes were perfect for him, and when you have perfection, you don't mess with it. Amen.

And finally. I really love reviews, comments, random observations. Please? I promise to work harder to get the next chapter up faster, too!


	56. Ch 133 Flashpoints

Chapter 133 – Flashpoints

Harry sought out Neville the next morning, joining him on the walk to their first class of the day.

"Thanks, Neville, for the good advice. It was a fantastic idea to tell Severus about the Winter Lands place. I can't surprise him on Christmas morning, but I sure shocked him last night when I told him about it!" Harry whispered with a smile.

Neville nodded and grinned back sheepishly. "Yeah, but I can't really take credit for that. I brought Tante with me to look at the three farms, and that was her idea. I got quite a lecture about how personal a space a laboratory was. Not really my focus, you know?"

"I owe you one, then," Harry offered. "Severus and I will be going up there this weekend, and I hope the rest of the place is OK with him. If we don't need to do much outside, I can probably get it finished quickly. Is there snow on the ground up there yet?"

"Oh, yeah, but the compounds are usually OK. They build the fences around them to direct the wind and the snow away from the houses. Very ingenious. I think there might be some magic involved – I never asked. But the compounds I've been to over the past month or so are surprisingly livable, even when it's winter and there's waist-deep snow banks in the fields."

Harry raised his eyebrows at the reference to the amount of snow up there. He hoped he hadn't gotten too far over his head with this.

He didn't have too long to wonder, as he and Severus took a portkey to Bifrost Hall right after breakfast on Saturday morning. A young man named Einar, whose family once lived in the compound they were visiting, led them in a long broom-ride through swirling snow over fields and finally forest to the remote farm.

The trio arrived as the late dawn was just breaking. They landed in an open field in front of a surprisingly large stone house, two stories tall. The field, house, barn and a few small out-buildings were surrounded by a tall fence made of tall tree poles lashed firmly together. The fence looked sturdy and sheltered enough. But the gate was swinging open in the cold, steady wind.

Severus immediately organized the three of them into a triangle, each facing out with his back protected by the other two.

Einar reacted, indignation in his voice. "Lord Snape, my family lived here. This is a safe place."

"Not with an open gate, it isn't, damn it!" Severus spat. "Anything out there could just wander in, and there are lots of places to hide here."

"But Grendlings won't enter a compound! They're fearsome beasts, yeh, but they don't like enclosed spaces. If they wanted t' get inta a compound, believe me, they'd be able t' tear down most of our fences. But they don't. They always fear being trapped. They are happy t' wait in the forests, and attack when someone's outside the fence."

If Einar thought that starting with the worst case scenario was going to calm his guest, he was wrong. Severus nearly shouted "Grendlings?" as he began to look back and forth frantically

"Grendlings made it very difficult t' operate a ranch here, yeh. My family couldn't take the herd outside the gates without at least five men ready t' defend them. But the family abandoned this farm because of the dementors, not the Grendlings," he explained. "If you know their ways, the Grendlings can be managed."

With a clearly uneasy gulp, Severus slowly straightened up from his defensive stance, but kept his wand in his hand and his eyes continued to dart about. He nodded at Harry, and watched the young man do the same. They were both still very wary. Between the whistling of the wind and the noise made by rustling leaves and loose doors and shutters, it was hard to relax.

"Look," Einar volunteered, "I'll close the gate, if this bothers you." The tall Viking needed only a few strides to get to the opening. After closing it, he set a large timber that was on the ground into two large arms that extended one from the gate and one from the fence, bolting it closed.

Harry smiled at Severus, pleased at his protectiveness. "We'll stay alert," he said softly. "I'm sure that Lord Brand would never have allowed Neville and Tante to visit if he thought there was any danger here. With the fence bolted closed, we'll be fine." Harry tried to break some of the tension by adding "And doesn't Einar sound like Hagrid? I wonder if they've ever compared notes?"

Severus nodded a terse "Indeed" but did not relax. He kept his broom with him, just in case, and was glad to see Harry do the same.

Harry noticed an area near the fence that had been marked with some large stones, and pointed with his wand hand as he called out to Einar, "Are those stones the ones Tante set for the greenhouse?"

Einar surveyed the space in the direction Harry gestured. "Well, we never had a greenhouse on the farm, but that spot would get the best sun. If she marked a spot for your greenhouse, yeh, that's as good a one as any."

Harry had been a bit concerned when Einar told them that the compound had belonged to his family – would he feel like Harry was taking something from him? Certainly nothing Einar said suggested any regret or sense of loss, but he didn't want to hurt the man's feelings.

"Tante visited here with my friend Neville, and he told me that she marked the spot for a greenhouse, so that must be it then. What are the other buildings here?" he asked, curious about the functions of some of the smaller ones and hoping against hope that none of them established that the big house lacked indoor plumbing.

As he started walking with his guests across the field to the first of the buildings, Einar offered a bit of background. "I never lived here, myself, of course. My great-grandfather and his brothers set this place up, and abandoned it in less tha' five years – the dementors, as I mentioned, yeh. They had an idea t' have a dairy farm here, making cheese. There were five brothers, three had wives and maybe a dozen children between 'em. My great-grandfather was killed by a dementor. My Mooa had three children and she and the rest of the family left here within a few months. I've heard stories about this place all my life, yeh, but I've never been here before."

Einar himself seemed to have no emotional connection to the compound, but his knowledge of what was where confirmed that there must have been lots of stories about the place in his childhood. Einar led the little group around the farm, showing off a tool shed, a chicken coop, a root cellar and a cook-house that was steaming in the cold air. "We're on top of a thermal spring here, yeh. There's a cold spring on the other side of the compound, but this one is always steaming hot. Some sort of pool under ground out by the barn, too – my Mooa always told stories, yeh, about her garden by the barn where there was never snow and she grew vegetables all year." He pointed to some pipes coming up from a well, a few of which were heading off to the house. "This water was used in cheese-making, yeh. Helps heat the house in the cold weather, and it's useful for cooking and such there. Never freezes, which is jus' what you need up here." He also lifted the door to a cellar accessed down a ricketly ladder that stretched away from the cook-house; a lingering pungency in the stale air suggested that this was where the cheese had been stored to age.

That was the last of the little buildings, and Einar now led the group to the barn. It was a large, rustic space, which used the fence as one of its walls. Severus took a quick look around and stepped outside. As much as he hated to admit it, Grendlings had a point about not wanting to be trapped in an enclosed space.

As Einar showed Harry the spot that had no doubt been the heart of the working farm for its brief life as such, Severus stood with his back against the barn wall, his eyes scanning the parts of the compound he could see from his vantage point. The snow fell in a curious pattern here – most of it seemed to be swept away from the enclosure, as there was not much snow accumulated inside the fence, not nearly as much as he might have expected, given the storm through which they flew to get here. He suddenly stilled, all of his senses heightened to their fullest. He was sure he heard a noise. Of course, with the wind blowing as steadily as it was, and all the rustling that caused, it was possible that the wind caused the little crunch he was sure he heard, but he wasn't sure. He inched slowly toward the corner from which he thought the sound came, relieved to realize that he was moving into the wind, so his scent did not precede him.

As he reached the corner and prepared to spin to confront whatever was around it in a full defensive crouch, Harry and Einar had finished looking through the barn and were themselves just about to step out into the fresh air. Both events occurred at once – Harry and Einar exited the barn just in time to see Severus leap around the corner, his black cloak and robes swirling menacingly, his wand drawn. They were frozen in place for half a second, when (as Severus would later observe, their mutual Gryffindor natures mandated) they both drew their wands and ran over to him to assist.

Severus had come within a fraction of a second of blasting a cow with a stunning spell.

The cow was munching on some grass growing in the spot where the plant could draw both warmth and water from the thermal spring. A calf was not too far away, and another cow and a bull were similarly munching on grass and some other plants a bit farther down the barn wall. This must be where the garden was, atop the underground pool fed by the thermal spring.

The nearest cow looked at Severus with its huge, solemn eyes, and mooed loudly in annoyance at the intrusion, before turning its attention back to the grass.

For his part, Severus clasped his wand hand to his chest, hoping against hope to calm his thundering heart as he processed that this had been a false alarm. Harry took in the situation quickly, and seeing the look on Severus' face, wisely stifled the laugh that wanted to erupt. Instead, he took Severus by the arm and squeezed, saying, "Calm down. False alarm. What in Merlin's name did you think you'd find here?"

Einar was stroking the cow's head, a look of happy wonder on his face. "My grandfather always told a story about the cows here. After his father was killed and the family prepared to abandon this farm, yeh, he'd heard his uncles talking about slaughtering the herd here and flying the meat back. He was fond of the cow he tended and wanted t' give her a chance. He sent her and one of the bulls out and said he left the gate open. Not everyone believed him, yeh, but these must be descendants of his cow."

By now, Severus' breath had returned to normal and he merely scowled fiercely at the scene before him before sweeping grandly back toward the house. Harry and Einar exchanged grins and hurried after him.

The house was in surprisingly good shape, for such a long period of disuse. Harry with thrilled with the place. Severus was not exactly charmed, but he appreciated that the place could be made habitable.

The downstairs was one huge open space, with big fireplaces on three walls. In some ways, it was a smaller version of Bifrost Hall. There were a few pieces of outsized, solid wooden furniture, including a massive table toward the end of the room that would seem to have served as the kitchen. Most of the windows had been broken, likely from the wind blowing tree-limbs about, judging from the debris that littered the floor. What had looked like a second story to the building from outside was actually a loft that went around the perimeter of three sides of the great room that filled the downstairs, with private spaces, likely bedrooms, against the walls.

"So, assuming this is where we are going to stay, where would we put a potions lab?" Harry chirped, as he dragged Severus downstairs from the loft after a quick inspection of the bedrooms.

Severus pondered that for a second. Finally, he pointed to the wall next to one of the fireplaces, on the side of the house that was closest to the future greenhouse. "I think the best approach would be to build a room right off there, as you'd never put a potions lab in open space used for other activities, like this. It must be separate and it needs a door, not just a passage. Stone, not wood. Slate would be good, or marble, whatever is local. If you put the door here," as he gestured at the wall right next to the fireplace, "you can open up the back of the fireplace, and it can warm the lab, as well."

Harry knew he had a great deal of work ahead of him, to make this a true second home for himself and Severus. He realized he would need to puzzle out many details over the next few months. For now he was nearly beside himself with excitement that they'd found a place that could be theirs alone, remote if it needed to be, but connected to others if that was possible. And it would have something that was meaningful to Severus – that was so important. He'd build his bondmate the best potions lab, ever.

X X X X X X X X X X

While Voldemort had his little band of "Riddle cousins" working behind the scenes to guide muggle action against the magical world, he had others who were anxious to start attacking the magical world more directly and visibly. He finally thought it was time to begin unsettling things a little bit, to make everyone edgy and nervous. When people – with magic or without, it appeared - were worried and looking over their shoulders, they were distracted, easily upset, probably inclined to make rash decisions. Perfect.

Gritting his teeth at the lost efficiency of being able to use the Dark Marks, he'd sent out owls to summon several dozen of his followers who most enjoyed making mayhem. And that's exactly what he charged them with doing. They worked out a program that would play out over the next few months, of an assortment of random acts of violence, perpetrated against muggle and magical targets and people.

"My friends," he addressed the group sat around a large table in his receiving room after they presented their ideas, "we have created a masterful plan here today. Our goal is distraction, but I certainly don't object to as much destruction as you wish. Remember, though, this is not our battle against the light, just a preliminary taste for the light, and their precious muggles, of course, of what might, or might not be coming. Make them nervous, scared, worried. Wreak some havoc, and then ease up, or maybe move to something else. Not knowing what might be coming, not being sure how to prepare to defend – this will wear them down."

Shortly thereafter, a group of very happy Death Eaters departed the wards around the manor and apparated away.

X X X X X X X X X X

On Wednesday afternoon, Hermione had to skip one of her study groups to attend a meeting in the Headmaster's office. She didn't look particularly disturbed about this, although the fact that she was missing a study session was, in itself, quite noteworthy.

Professor Dumbledore looked up from his desk as she entered. "Ah, Miss Granger! Right on time, excellent. I expect Madam Bunswil to be stepping through the floo in a few minutes."

He stood to take his place near the floo in anticipation of the arrival, while pointing out a small table and chairs that had been placed in a far corner of the room. "School rules dictate that you meet with Madam Bunswil in the presence of a member of the staff. I understand that there is a certain confidentiality in the matters you wish to discuss with our guest. I think we can satisfy the Board of Governors' rules and afford you some privacy if we just put some distance between your interview and my work on a few administrative matters."

Hermione nodded gratefully, just as green flames engulfed the fireplace, and their guest stepped into the room. She was a fascinating blend of regal bearing and bohemian dress, with her long, grey hair falling over her elaborate, colorful shawl. She took a deep breath as she took in her surroundings.

Her hazel eyes missed nothing as they quickly scanned the room. She nodded rather imperiously to the Headmaster. "Professor Dumbledore, I presume? I am Vadoma Bunswil," she introduced herself with a formal nod. The Headmaster's eyes widened ever so slightly at her name, and she gave him a steely glare in response. Looking at Hermione, her eyes softened a bit. "And you must be Miss Granger. A pleasure to meet you, my dear. I am most intrigued by what I've heard of your work, just the merest bit that was mentioned by that charming young Auror who contacted me."

"It's my pleasure, Madam Bunswil, and thank you for coming to Hogwarts to meet with me. Here, we can sit over here," Hermione replied, awkwardly trying to assist the old woman to the nearest seat at the table provided by the Headmaster. Madam Bunswil was having none of that – she was quite capable of getting there on her own. Hermione finally stood aside to be out of the way, as her elderly guest took her seat.

Professor Dumbledore thought to break some of the tension by waving for a pot of tea, and with a look of thanks, Hermione offered and poured a cup for both of them at the table.

"So, my dear, tell me about your research, if you will. I am quite intrigued," Madam Bunswil purred, her speech still lightly accented with the inflections of her central European heritage, despite her having resided in Britain for well over 170 years.

Hermione launched into a high-level summary of the article she was preparing, and of her conclusions, and of the most recent request from the editor that she probe a bit more deeply, to offer a few more concrete examples.

The old woman smiled with appreciation at the story. "Fascinating, Miss Granger, and well done, well done!" she enthused. "I think that I agree with you, although I can't say I ever actually approached this with the rigor you have applied here." She smiled as she took a sip of her tea, before continuing.

"When young Master Malfoy approached me about looking into that horrid man who attacked Lord Snape, I sensed the magic of Hungary in his wand, and as it happened, I have many friends there. Literally, with one owl sent to the daughter of an old friend, I had this information." She gestured airily at the small packet of information Hermione had before her on the table. "But you know, there was something else in that man's magic, a touch of British, or maybe Scottish magic, I thought. I recall a number of instances over the years, where I have puzzled over a bit of magic from a different place. I think that maybe you have now solved that riddle for me."

"And would you mind if I asked you a few questions about the information you got on the man?" Hermione asked politely.

To Madam Bunswil's nod, Hermione worked through a list of questions that she had prepared, and she made careful note of the responses she got. The two spoke for half an hour or so, before Hermione summoned her nerve to ask what might be seen as an impertinent question.

"Madam Bunswil, if you don't mind my asking, what exactly do you do when you study a wand, or whatever? I'm delighted that you solved this particular puzzle so quickly, but am not sure what you did."

The old woman considered Hermione for a moment, holding her head at an angle. "I attended Beauxbatons Academy, just like any other strong witch or wizard from my part of the world. I can do all the spells, and charms, just like anyone else. But my magic has some components that are very unusual. I have described it as 'magic of the mind' when pressed. I don't see into the future, goodness no, I'm not a seer, or fortune teller," she sniffed. "But I can tell all sorts of things about magical people, based on their magic. If I meet them, or have the chance to touch something that's contained their magic, I just know. I see it in their magic. It's not a skill I ever sought to develop, but I found it within me and nurtured it, and it has served me well. It was highly valued by a small group who learned to trust it implicitly."

Hermione appreciated that the small group undoubtedly consisted of elder Malfoys, maybe Snapes, and who knows what other Slytherin families. She fought an impulse to shiver, as she pondered the sorts of things those families might have been doing.

As if she knew what Hermione thought, the older woman took her story a bit farther. "I was not involved in any of the business transactions personally. Sometimes, I consulted on completely personal matters. My task was to assess potential partners, to put it simply. Magic is a very rich source of information about a person – family backgrounds, how they've approached events in their lives, how they control their emotions. I can tell if someone is speaking forthrightly, or shielding certain information. I can feel hostility, anger, violence, veniality. For example, if what I conclude does not match with their own statements about their background, that is a concern – they are not telling the truth. My reports to my employers helped some avoid disastrous partnerships with individuals who were not as they presented themselves to be, and enabled many transactions to proceed quickly when I assured that the proposed partners were to be trusted."

Hermione nodded. She'd never heard of this skill, but it apparently was rare, and she was still quite a newcomer to the magical world, all things considered.

Madam Bunswil studied Hermione as she processed the information that she had, and she knew the young woman had other questions, as yet unasked, about the magic of the man who'd attacked Lord Snape. And about her own magic. Rather than wait on questions, she decided to simply respond to what she knew her hostess wanted to learn.

"Hermione, dear, I know that you have unasked questions, likely pertaining to the magic of the man I identified as Andor Szalay. There was a reference in Cili's note to me to his family background, and I suspect that puzzled you." Madam Bunswil was rewarded with a look of utter shock on Hermione's face, no doubt because the thoughts in her own mind had just been given voice by this stranger.

The older woman smiled at the reaction, one she'd gotten many times over the years, even from employers who were totally familiar with her and the unique skills she possessed. Taking Hermione's silence as agreement, she forged ahead. "Cili noted that there were rumors that his family included Roma stock," she began, again eliciting a strong reaction from Hermione as the exact line in the letter that puzzled her was quoted back to her. "The Roma, perhaps better known to you as Gypsies, are a people with a curious magical inheritance. There are actually extremely few witches or wizards who are Roma, and only a few Roma have enough magic to be identified as squibs. But many Roma, the women in particular, do have a magical gift, a magical sight. The muggle stereotype of Gypsy fortune-tellers is actually not far from the truth, at least in terms of the reading of palms, Tarot cards or crystal balls. Many do have the ability to see, in certain narrow respects, into the future. In those rare instances where a Roma is found to be a witch or wizard, most have an element of this magical sight amplified within their magic."

Hermione was puzzling this on two levels: did the man who attacked Professor Snape, Andor . . whatever, have this skill? And didn't Madam Bunswil just describe to a certain extent her own magic?

Madam Bunswil took note of that and proceeded.

"Even in the magical world, the Roma are looked upon with suspicion and distrust. Consequently, many with Roma blood do not disclose that fact. It appears that the Szalay clan may be such a family, based on what Cili said and what I sensed from the magic in the man's wand. The family is an old magical family, known more for its long lineage than for any remarkable or remarkably strong wizards within it. Andor never demonstrated anything unusual or remarkable in his magic that was noted by others. Likely, this man was not a particularly powerful wizard, and probably not the smartest, either. If he had unique skills, he had no idea how to use them, or it is just as likely that he never even realized they were there. But there was definitely Roma there. I can tell."

She took another sip of her tea, as Hermione looked on, mute and slightly agog at the ease with which Madam Buswil knew exactly what she wanted to know.

"And as for me, as you're wondering, I do indeed have Roma ancestry. My mother was a Roma, and you noticed your Headmaster's reaction when I identified myself – my given name is a typically Roma name."

Hermione felt particularly discomfited when she realized what was behind the Headmaster's expression when Madam Bunswil introduced herself with her full name. She was momentarily pained that he, of all people would react that way. He seemed so open-minded, this was almost out of character.

"Think nothing of it, child. I give him credit – he recovered himself immediately, and turned into a gracious host. These are age-old prejudices, they will not go away quickly." Again, Madam Bunswil addressed Hermione's unspoken thought.

Finally, Hermione recovered her voice, if she had not yet overcome her embarrassment or organized her thoughts. "Thank you for your candor, Madam. I was not aware . . ., well, . . . I don't . . ."

She stopped, awkwardly, before starting again. "My theory is that when this man was killed, some of his magic was released into the room. The editor challenged me to prove my theory in real time. To do that, I need to show that someone in that room captured some of that magic. If we assume that Andor had unique traits as a result of his Roma heritage, what ought I look for? The most likely person to have attracted the magic is Harry Potter, who already has a pretty remarkable assortment of magic in him. What would be different?"

Madam Bunswil looked at Hermione with interest. "You assume that Mr. Potter added magic?"

Hermione was reluctant to share what she knew of Harry's history, although it occurred to her that if she thought about it, Madam Bunswil probably read it in her mind, a very disquieting realization.

The old woman continued. "As I said, there was a small bit of British or maybe Scottish magic that appeared to be a part of Andor's magic. If Mr. Potter sent out a burst of magic himself, it seems more likely to me that he was sending out magic rather than attracting it. In the seconds before he died, I would suggest to you that Andor added some of Mr. Potter's magic to his own. However, you have posed a valid question: If Andor's magic was blown apart at his death, and someone acquired a piece of it, what might this mean to the acquirer?"

Hermione nodded, still standing by her best guess that it was Harry who acquired a new magical skill, given his history.

"It is unfortunate that Andor's magic is not documented in any public place," Madam Bunswil mused, "as I am quite certain that the Szalay clan will deny any Roma heritage most vehemently if this is brought to light. To them, this will be a terrible scandal, far beyond the shame the young man's actions have brought."

She patted her lips with her handkerchief, shaking her head slowly. She looked up and caught Hermione's eye, smiling before she went on. "However, assuming that this man had the typical traits, a magical Roma has certain intuitions. They will know something to be true or a fact without being able to point to a specific reason for their knowledge. Someone who has cultivated this intuition or skill, or has more of this magic than others, like myself, perhaps, can call on this skill at will. I would imagine that someone with minimal amounts of this magic, or not fully aware of it, would not be able to control it. Insights will spring to mind, on random topics. I would expect this insight would not be understood, at least at first, so it might not be something the wizard or witch would even acknowledge or mention to someone. But if Mr. Potter is a friend of yours, as I understand is the case, perhaps if you talk to him about this and he looks for evidence that might meet this description, he'll share it with you."

X X X X X X X X X X

The month of November saw the days shorten and the temperatures dip. The Vikings still took turns serving as a personal army for Harry Potter. As their farms were now covered in snow, as many as one hundred Vikings were able to be in Scotland at any given time. They were not particularly bothered by the arriving Scottish winter, mild by their standards. They were also quite comfortable in their drafty tents. However, the house elves were up at arms over wizards living in non-magical, cold, fabric "houses," right in front of them. They insisted that they had to cast magic on the Vikings' tents to keep them warm, an idea rejected out-of-hand by the burly men. It had taken Albus' intervention with Alrik Brand to break the stalemate, and the house elves were allowed to cast their spells. The house elves either did not notice, or chose not to say anything, when many of the Vikings simply tied the entry flaps to the tents open, because they found the tents too warm and wanted the fresh air.

Alrik Brand's presence itself was an unexpected help to Harry, because his wife was now a frequent visitor to Hogwarts most weekends. Diana had mentioned to her brother that she was planning to allow her daughters to spend some time in the Winter Lands in the coming summer. She went on about the fresh air and them having the chance to know their Brand cousins, and for his part, Severus refrained from adding an observation about there suddenly being a certain cachet to residence there. She described the efforts she was taking to make her husband's personal home in the Brand compound suitable for use by her family. She confided that she'd heard from Alrik that Harry had selected a remote compound for himself and Severus, and she offered her assistance in making it ready for them.

To Diana's surprise, her brother actually welcomed the idea, and had her meet with Harry the next day. "Severus told me that you offered to help me get our compound ready," Harry began over tea in their rooms, first wanting to be sure he wasn't imposing on his sister-in-law, "and we appreciate that. We don't want people to know where it is, or even confirm that we have one. He pointed out that if I contract with anyone to do work there, the game is up."

Diana was very pleased that Harry was so receptive to her offer, and readily agreed to use her own work at the Brand compound as a "cover" for work for Harry. She was already working with some highly-recommended firms, and would simply have them work on the remote compound as part of her own project. She could also use the Brand compound as a staging ground for the import of many of the things needed at the far more remote Potter compound, enabling Harry to keep his farm as private as possible.

If she had hoped to have control of the actual design of the compound, though, she was disappointed. Harry had some very specific ideas, and a few likely came from her brother. It seemed that Harry and Severus were generally satisfied with the layout of the buildings as they found them, and aside from building the potions lab, only minimal work was required even on the main house. The new greenhouse was an exciting challenge for her, as was Harry's idea for a small, heated swimming pond.

Hermione had briefed Harry and Ron on her conversation with Madam Bunswil, insisting that they all be on the lookout for any comments or statements that Harry might make that would suggest he was manifesting any kind of Roma intuition.

"She was a really old, really interesting lady," Hermione told her friends. "She referred to Mr. Malfoy as 'Master Malfoy' so she obviously knew him as a child. She thought my theory made total sense, based on what she does. Madam Bunswil told me that she has often detected a bit of magic that was out of place when she was assessing someone's magic. Like, she could tell if someone came from Scotland, but she'd find a bit of magic in them that was Asian."

Ron snickered. "A warm endorsement from someone who sounds a bit like Trelawney – not quite the endorsement that you can really brag about, is it?"

Hermione shrugged; that thought had occurred to her, as well. "You have a point, Ron. It does give me encouragement to me to know that I'm probably right in the conclusions I've drawn, though. She seems to be someone who keeps a very low profile, so there'd be no point in any public statement, anyway."

She had debated with herself about sharing what Madam Bunswil had told her about Szalay's magic, but decided finally to share. "Madam Bunswil told me that it was clear to her right off that the man who attacked Professor Snape was from Central Europe. She knew someone there, and she was able to get his identity right away. But she said there was a little bit of British or maybe Scottish magic in him, and that puzzled her. As we spoke, she seemed to think it might have come from you, Harry, when you sent out the pulse that threw him to the wall."

Harry seemed concerned about that, but Ron looked impressed and elbowed Harry.

"Whoa, there, mate! That must have been quite a bit of magic you did, if it left a bit behind in the man," he leaned in to ask, clearly excited. "Isn't that exactly what you would have expected, Mione?"

"Well, I'm not sure. I've only considered cases where someone's magic is dispersed when they die violently. Harry's no doubt a special case, and you said," she went on, smiling a bit apologetically at Harry, "it was a burst of wandless magic you sent out, probably not very controlled." Harry had to nod, still bothered by this.

Hermione went on. "I suppose that might fit with my theory, then. Most people would only release magic that way in an assault that killed them, but given that you're you, and have so much more magic, your bursts, in particular, might release magic. But as you pointed out, Ron, all we have is Madam Bunswil as evidence of it. For purposes of the theory I put forth in my article, though, I need to look for some magic from the man who was killed, now in someone else. It needs to be visible, witnessed by others. Harry, for example, showing that he has absorbed some of Szalay's magic. We need to be on the lookout, all of us."

Harry gulped, but had to ask. "And what would we be looking for, exactly?"

Hermione consulted a parchment tucked into one of her books. "Madam Bunswil said to be on the lookout for you to have insights or intuitions."

Ron and Harry shared a glance and nearly laughed when they each raised their eyebrows skeptically at the exact same time. Hermione looked at them disapprovingly, and the two wisely refrained from any making any further noise.

She continued. "For example, Harry, I expect that you'd realize that you know something to be true or a fact without being able to point to a specific reason for this knowledge. It's not likely something that you can make happen, but just something that will come into your mind on its own. The topics can be random, too, so it's really that feeling that you have an insight or feeling about something that will likely be noticeable."

Despite their best efforts, nothing remotely of the sort was detected from Harry over the following weeks.

Harry's idea to ask the ravens to appear to him before lunch rather than interrupt his classes had apparently appealed to them. The ravens had made that their standard visiting time, and they were visiting regularly now.

Harry had made it a habit to head to Severus' office before lunch, where they'd either wait for the ravens to report to Harry, or on the rare days when the ravens did not appear, take a leisurely stroll to lunch. Harry was comforted by Severus' presence as he heard what the ravens had to tell him, and they'd established a routine of Harry articulating what he was hearing or seeing to that Severus as it happened. That way Severus could help him probe for details he might miss, and later help him fully recall all he had learned.

Things were not going well in the world outside of Howarts. Only twice had the information enabled Harry to report what he'd seen and prevent an attack; to his frustration, he was almost always seeing events as they unfolded or right after. Things seemed chaotic and uncoordinated, but violent and frightening. There were no discernable patterns; muggles and magical people were victims, things happened during daylight and nighttime, some attacks were on individuals and others directed toward structures. Harry saw bridges fall, underground stations explode, buildings collapse and boats sink, as well as people thrown from buildings. It was truly the stuff of nightmares, and Severus made it a point to have vials of Dreamless Sleep in the nightstand, and to be sure Harry took one each night.

The visions were now often supplemented by whispered reports, with the ravens murmuring snippets of information and details that might not have been clear from the images he saw. Harry, helped along by Severus' participation, began to engage with the ravens, asking questions and probing for more details. Most of the time, they had nothing more than they'd already shared, but sometimes, Harry's questions drew out additional tidbits. It was a slow, exhausting process, although gradually, the ravens seemed to understand what this wizard, among the many they'd served over the centuries, wanted to know and were a bit more forthcoming with relevant details.

Harry fully expected to hear from the muggles about renewing the messages he'd taped in the summer. He could not imagine that muggles, just seeing the violence inflicted on their own kind, would be anything but outraged. He was not surprised, then, when a request for his assistance was made to the Minister's office. As the royal family was not in residence at Balmoral Castle that this time of year, Harry was invited to Buckingham Palace in London.

This necessitated a bit of logistical planning, not a simple trip via floo to Balmoral Castle. Harry and Severus took a port key to the Ministry of Magic, to the Minister's office directly, early on the chosen evening. From there, they and half a dozen Aurors and several senior employees in the Department of Explanations flooed to the muggle Prime Minister's office. Special shields were cast on the Prime Minister's armored limousine and the Ministry officials joined their muggle counterparts in the limousine. With a muggle police escort, they drove to Buckingham Palace, a novel experience for the Ministry of Magic officials. Harry, Severus and two senior Aurors used port keys to join them in the protected courtyard just outside the palace.

Harry was pleased to see the muggle princes again, and their easy repartee was evident right away. The Department of Explanations representatives had been working with representatives from the muggle government to develop appropriate messages to meet the growing distress and agitation among the muggles. The young men did several walk-throughs of the scripted presentations to be sure no one stepped on anyone else's lines and that the conversation flowed, and then they taped the messages.

Severus stood off to the side, not wanting to interfere with the numerous muggle machines that literally formed a wall in front of the chairs on which the three young men were seated, but also not tolerating Harry being out of his sight. It looked safe enough here, certainly from any harm from muggles. He noticed immediately the presence of men who were obviously a security detail; some with bulky metal weapons clearly visible, others with similar weapons clearly concealed, and all with various wires leading to their ears and snaking to their lapels. Traditional magical means of providing security, such as wards and charms, would interfere with the functioning of the muggle electronic devices, so they could not be deployed. Severus was not happy to have to rely on the simple vigilance of the Aurors, but he kept his own vigilant watch over the proceedings and his hand on his wand at all times.

Severus had not paid terribly close attention to developments in the muggle world, aside from the events that were reported by the ravens. He was surprised by the full story of what he realized must have been happening, as he heard the messages Harry and the princes were delivering. He had his doubts that their reasoned messages urging vigilance and restraint would have the desired impact, if the muggles were experiencing the sorts of attacks and general mayhem that were being mentioned.

Harry was in a similar predicament, perhaps even more isolated from the bigger picture about which he was speaking by virtue of his "student" status. He was learning for the first time, as he read the script, about the steps that the Ministry of Magic was taking to prevent these attacks. His mind was racing, and he all but yelled out in frustration that it was all so reactive! Placing wards at the entrance to an underground station AFTER a wizard had apparated in and destroyed a train had limited value. As he mouthed scripted words of comfort and assurance, he was inwardly concerned, were the wizards doing enough? He might not be the one best aware of how magic could help, but what they were doing did not feel sufficient.

The taping dragged on, as multiple messages were recorded that could be used over the next few weeks. It was now the start of the holiday season, with travel and shopping meaning that more muggles would be frequenting the very places that had been targeted for violent attacks in recent weeks. Harry spoke words that described how wizards were tasking some of their police to augment the muggle police, and mention was made that some members of the magical community were providing magical protections to key structures in and around London.

When the tedious evening was finally over, Severus immediately went to Harry, uncomfortable in what was feeling more and more like a very insecure location. He curtly acknowledged the two young royals, as he took Harry's arm and whispered "I'm very concerned – this place does not feel safe. I think it best if we activate our portkey and return to Hogwarts immediately."

The older prince pointed to a door behind them. "We've had some of your people here over the past few weeks putting what I think they called wards or wardings, over the apartments. We're staying here for now, because we've been told it's safer. You could step through, so we can chat for a few minutes," he suggested.

"Would you mind if I asked Madam Bones to join us?" wizard Harry asked. "I don't hear about all the things going on out here, when I'm at school in Scotland. There were some things I read in the script we used tonight that concern me, and I'd like to find out more."

Severus saw the Minister of Magic standing with the muggle Prime Minister, and observed "Likely, we'd need to include her muggle counterpart. Would that be acceptable?" He directed his question to the princes; while not entirely certain about the protocols that attached to muggle royalty and politics, what little he'd observed from his brief meetings with the princes' grandparents had suggested that there would be some rules about this.

It took some quickly whispered negotiations, but finally the two Ministers and Auror Entwhistle joined the princes and Harry and Severus, in a quick walk down a plain corridor. A solid door, manned by several armed British soldiers, was opened to admit them to the apartment. It was another short walk down a much brighter and homier corridor to a modest sitting room.

Severus quickly assessed the wards that he felt as the little group entered into the apartment. They were not the level of protection one would find at Hogwarts, the Ministry or Malfoy Manor, but quite impressive for a residential structure. He relaxed a bit as he found a seat.

Eyes went to wizard Harry as soon as everyone was settled, as he had requested this gathering.

"Madam Bones, I hope I'm not stepping out of bounds," Harry began, looking a little ill at ease. "You represent the wizarding world in this situation, not me. Are you sure that we are doing as much as we can to protect muggles against these attacks? I realize Voldemort's people are attacking wizards, too, and obviously you have to protect them. But the muggles are so vulnerable! Are there wards, or spells or something, that we can do – maybe at underground stations, or shopping areas, schools, that sort of thing?"

Far from offended, the Minister of Magic was pleased, first that Harry had respected that this was her issue to address, and second, that he showed such empathy for muggles. She was finding that a rather rare sentiment among her wizarding constituents and colleagues these days.

She took a deep breath as all eyes in the room moved to her, and nodded with approval. "Mr. Potter, I appreciate your sentiments. As you no doubt realize, magic seems to interfere with a great deal of muggle technology, so we've had to use it very carefully. Around the underground stations, we've had to take care not to disable the trains themselves, for example. In public spaces, it turns out that muggles use a great many devices that are unusable if we put up our standard wards and such. We've been testing some special wards and experimental charms. We have found a few that deliver protections, but don't seem to be a problem for the muggle devices. Just this week, we sent out teams to begin placing wards and charms at the entrances to underground stations, at some of the big stores, and a few other locations."

The muggle Prime Minister, not to be outshone here, quickly added "We are pleased that you recognize our need for your government's support, Mr. Potter. Mrs. Bones and many members of her administration have worked tirelessly with our own police and security organizations. I must admit, we were all a bit surprised by the impact of your magic on our electronics – very disruptive. But Mrs. Bones' team got right on that, and it seems to be resolved."

Severus had heard from his colleagues at Hogwarts about muggleborn students becoming upset because their electronic devices could not be used at Hogwarts. As there were virtually no muggleborn students in Slytherin, he himself was only aware of the complaining, not the details. Given that the muggle Prime Minister seemed as focused on this as eleven year olds arriving for their first year at Hogwarts, he smirked at the fact that this fascination with their devices was not just limited to spoiled children.

Harry nodded and offered a small smile. "I'm glad to hear that we've been of some assistance, sir. Madam Bones, I was just taken aback when we did the taping to realize the extent of the attacks in the muggle world. I realize that the same forces are wreaking havoc in our world, too, and of course, I'm not really aware of how all these limitations fit in. But we have to help. We have to."

Severus' smirk remained – spoken like a true Gryffindor.

The lights flickered in the room. Under normal circumstances, that might not have brought about quite the reaction it did here, but given the topic that had been under discussion, everyone feared the worst. Auror Entwhistle bolted to the door, to see if there was anything happening outside, trusting his magical boss to remember enough from her days as an Auror to provide any needed protection within the warded room, if it came to that. The others stood or sat still, waiting to see what was going to happen.

The lights flickered again and went out. Seconds later, emergency lights powered by batteries went on. While always an inconvenience, loss of power was not necessarily a threat. But then explosions could be heard, and the blare of sirens of emergency responders.

Severus immediately checked the wards and assured the others, "The wards are in tact. We appear to be safe here." Nonetheless, he stood and moved closer to Harry and put a protective hand on his arm. He tucked the butterbeer cap that could be activated as a portkey back to Hogwarts into an outer pocket of his robe where it could be grabbed at a moment's notice, and waited for news.

Entwhistle returned a few minutes later, reporting that explosions had ripped through several areas of London just then, and muggles were sending their fire trucks out to battle the resulting blazes. "There was an explosion just down the Mall, and people are checking to see why the Palace lost power. We don't think anything happened on the Palace grounds, but that's being assessed."

Madam Bones had flicked her wand, and a parchment appeared in front of her, which she picked up and proceeded to read, ignoring the stare of the muggle Prime Minister in the room at this apparently routine means of communication in her world. "Mmmm. Our people detected seven attacks; four in your world, three in ours, all around London, within the last two minutes." She was scanning past the mentions of wizard targets, which would not be known to the others and which, fortunately, were not particularly critical structures. She resumed speaking when she got to the muggle targets. "It seems they inflicted some damage on the Royal Festival Hall and the Golden Jubilee Bridge, and did some damage near the White Tower, although of course, the wards around the Tower of London seem to have protected most of the structures over there. And the Mall. It seems that the Admiralty Arch has been severely damaged."

She looked around the room. "We don't know if this is it, or if more will happen. This is a safe place; the wards we've put up will protect the structure and repel magic. I suggest that we just wait a few minutes. We've noticed a pattern with the attacks we've tracked: there is usually a burst of activity, several attacks all at the same time, and then a round or two of follow-up attacks, and then silence. There doesn't seem to be much coordination among the people behind this, other than with the initial attacks."

Harry nodded as he looked at Severus, not sure if the man was thinking along the lines he was. The raven's recent information had been disappointing, especially when he saw in the script he'd just used how far-reaching the attacks had been. There likely was not much preparation, then, and it was only in the attack itself that the Death Eaters disclosed their intent. On the one hand, as Madam Bones had just said, the attacks weren't well-planned or coordinated and ended pretty quickly. However, that meant the attacks were surprises and nothing the ravens could warn him about.

The royal princes were quiet, not exactly fearful but concerned, as they saw the level of concern on the faces of the wizards. The Prime Minister was less familiar than they were with magic in general, and while he tried to project an image of concern, the fear was pretty easy to see on his face.

Entwhistle and the Minister of Magic noticed, and exchanged a look, and at her almost imperceptible nod, the young Auror addressed his nominal employer. "Mr. Prime Minister, while there is a lull, it might be best to get you out of here, back to your office. I'll escort you to the entrance; if it does not look prudent for you to travel by limousine, there are magical ways to get from here to there, and I'll take you. We ought to leave now."

Not quite wanting to run, but clearly having to hold himself back from that very basic urge, the Prime Minister made a show of bidding formal farewells to the others in the room, before he followed his assistant down the hall.

Madam Bones looked at the four men remaining in the sitting room. "Gentlemen, this is no place for civilians. I've got a dozen Aurors on site already, to defend the muggles here and the palace from whoever is trying to attack; the Ministry employees who were not able to assist in the defense have already apparated back to the Ministry or their homes. You would all be doing us a favor if you left here immediately, so we do not need to deploy resources to assure your personal safety."

The older prince spoke up. "We live here, Madam Minister, and you yourself said we now have strong wards to protect us. Perhaps we should just plan to wait this out."

Severus quickly checked the wards again and reported, "It feels like the wards themselves are being attacked now. True, they are strong wards, but they are new, not yet as rooted into the earth as they could be. I suspect that Madam Bones' Aurors will be able to repel the ones seeking to destroy them long before they are actually breached, but it would be prudent to remove ourselves from the area. As she points out, allow the Aurors to do their jobs without worry for our safety."

Harry immediately asked the princes "Are other members of your family here now?" and to the Minister he said "Are they safe?"

The royal Harry replied "No, we were the only ones in London this week. My grandparents are in Australia and my father is in Greece. Official trips."

Madam Bones saw the potential for the young men feeling targeted, and she wanted to avoid that. "In all likelihood, the people attacking here have no idea who is in the building. It's large, there were wards, it's clearly important, but they might think it is a museum or large government complex. They'd certainly not have realized that the royal family is residing here, or that most of the members of the family are out of the country on official visits. It's just a random attack, and we don't want it to be anything more than that. Please, do as I ask, and leave here now."

A loud, cracking noise reverberated through the room. The three younger men jumped. Severus recognized it as the sound wards made when being forcibly pried from the structures to which they were attached. Not necessarily evidence of a breach, but absolute proof of efforts to bring them down. Things could get nasty here, very quickly.

"Harry, your Highnesses, we have no time to waste," he said. The urgency in his voice was compounded by the speed with which the Minister rushed from the room to join the battle that was no doubt about to be waged where the wards were attached. He extracted the portkey and explained to the princes, "We can take you with us, to Hogwarts; you can return here as soon as it's safe. Just close your eyes, and we'll tell you when you can open them again. Touch the portkey, and Harry and I will take you by the arm, to be sure you are alright. Count of three, then."

Not ten seconds after the four men disappeared from the room, a series of even louder, cracking noises accompanied the breach of a corner of the wards that protected the apartment complex in Buckingham Palace. Of course, there were by now dozens of Aurors in place to repel them, so the Death Eaters never actually got into the Palace. When they saw the size of the magical force arrayed to defend the Palace, the attackers themselves apparated away.

Mission accomplished.

[A/N: My apologies for the long time between chapters. This particular chapter proved very difficult to write, as it seemed to have a mind of its own. Several parts were rewritten a few times along the way, and I had to abandon (at least for now) a few ideas that were supposed to be in here, as they were crowded out by other developments.

I realized too late that this site does funny things to attempts to provide you with directions to other websites. I had mentioned in the author's notes to the prior chapter that Kila9Nishika has created an absolutely beautiful picture to honor this continuation of The Marriage Stone. Let's see if I can just write it out for you. The address is kila9nashika at deviantart dot com. It's fantastic!

I promise more Harry and Severus interaction in the next chapter. And I do love those reviews!]


	57. Ch 134 Visitors

Chapter 134 - Visitors

The portkey from Buckingham Palace deposited Harry, Severus and the princes in Harry's tower offices at Hogwarts, with a loud pop. The two princes opened their eyes as instructed by Harry, and looked around in amazement at their new and very different surroundings. While they had resided in the castle for quite a while, they'd not seen much beyond their rooms, the common areas and the grounds, certainly nothing like Harry's offices. And while they'd traveled by floo before and seemed to have no problem with that, no one got used to portkeys quickly.

"Are you alright?" Severus asked, concluding it was better to find out sooner than later that someone was about to sick up over the experience of taking a portkey.

The two young men nodded, somewhat hesitantly. Unpersuaded, Severus said "I think some herbal tea, with some something to sooth your stomachs, would still be in order." It was a further reminder that they were back in the world of magic when a teapot with that exact brew popped into existence on the coffee table, along with cups for all in the room. Harry broke the ice by pouring cups for all, and directing them to the chairs and couches.

Wills accepted his cup with thanks. "We came back to London from school just this afternoon, to tape the announcements. The trips the rest of the family are on were all long-planned. My grandmother was particularly concerned if it was right for her to make a trip at this time. Ultimately, she and my grandfather decided that it was important to carry on, business as usual. That's why my dad also kept his commitment. Aside from all of us staying at the palace, that's what we're doing. Carrying on."

"I'm sure that's important for your people," Severus observed. "I doubt you'll need to stay here beyond tomorrow, or maybe the day after. It is most likely that the attackers never came close to actually taking down the wards, but better we allowed those defending to do so without worrying for our safely. The Ministry of Magic will make any necessary repairs to the wards before you return."

"I'm concerned about how the family will react when they hear of this," the royal Harry said. "They'll be terrified to learn we were attacked, especially if it's a sensational report on the telly."

"The security details traveling with your family include some of ours. Word will have already reached them of the attack and your safety," Severus pointed out.

Magical Harry looked up at that – he had not heard about this. "Aurors?" he asked.

"Yes," Severus began dryly, "although in one case, a retired Auror was asked to take on a special assignment. Madam Bones told me this evening that Mrs. Longbottom was just recently asked for, by name, to join the security detail of the Queen."

Harry nodded. Neville hadn't said anything so it was likely that his grandmother hadn't mentioned that to him.

Now that their safety was assured, and their family was not going to be panicked, the princes were able to relax. "Do you all communicate the way your Minister did back at the Palace – just wave your wand and a paper pops up?" Wills asked, still puzzling in his mind how that worked.

Harry had never actually seen that himself, and was wondering if this was yet another aspect of the magical world that had thus far escaped his notice. Severus stepped in with the answer. "The Ministry of Magic handles certain communications that way. A parchment record is magically updated at the Ministry as an event unfolds, and it is charmed for access by anyone authorized by the Ministry. The witch or wizard casts a spell, and a current copy of the event record appears before them. It keeps everyone current, with the same information."

Both Harrys expressed their appreciation for this approach, in unison. "Wicked!"

Harry was in the midst of ascertaining the extent to which the princes had seen the castle during their stay over the summer, with a promise of a more comprehensive tour, when they were interrupted by the Headmaster, who knocked on the door and entered simultaneously.

"Oh, thank Merlin you boys are alright! I just heard from Amelia Bones about the attack. She said you'd portkeyed back here, but I had to check for myself. No harm to anyone?" he blurted out, almost breathless as he hurried in, his orange robes swirling about him. He was clearly looking for Harry and Severus, and seemed a bit taken aback at the presence of two young men not immediately familiar to him.

Harry stepped in quickly. "Headmaster, you might remember the two royal princes who lived here over the summer?"

That was all Albus needed. "Of course, of course, yes! Please forgive these old eyes, not what they once were! It's lovely to see you both again, and welcome back to Hogwarts. You are also unharmed by the events in London?" he recovered.

Stealing a quick look at each other, the princes nodded, as Wills replied, "Yes, sir, the Professor insisted we leave when there was a threat, rather than stay behind. Your Minister said the same."

Albus beamed and nodded. "Good, good. Glad that you are well. We are, of course, happy to provide guest quarters for you, as you had last summer, or perhaps Harry is planning to offer you accommodations in one of our school Houses?"

Harry looked at the two princes. "Well, we haven't actually gotten to that, but I was going to bring them to the Gryffindor common room, and if they'd like, I could ask Dobby to expand the seventh year boys' dorm to accommodate them. That way, they can experience Hogwarts as students do, rather than as guests. If they'd prefer guest quarters, I'll have Dobby prepare rooms. I'll escort them, either way, if that's alright?"

"Of course, wherever they are most comfortable." As Albus caught Severus' eye, his smile faltered. "Severus, may I ask you to step in to speak with me, when you are done here?"

With a typically formal nod, Severus agreed.

Magical Harry did not catch the falter in the Headmaster's smile, but mere moments after Albus had departed, he suggested that the three move along. "It's not so late that there won't be lots still going on in the Gryffindor common room, and you can meet some of my friends." Harry was just telling the princes that the Egyptian Pharaoh had stayed in Gryffindor when she visited Hogwarts over the summer as the door closed behind them, leaving Severus alone in Harry's offices. Severus waited until the voices on the landing had faded, before he stepped over to the Headmaster's office.

X X X X X X X X X X

Several hours later, Harry quietly murmured the password and exchanged greetings with the portrait of Salazar Slytherin guarding the door, and let himself into his quarters. He was surprised to see Severus sitting on the couch brooding at the fire, half expecting that his bondmate would have gone to bed without him by now. The angry expression on the man was a bit of a concern, but Harry squared his shoulders and went to sit down.

Severus looked up as Harry took a seat at the other end of the couch. "So, all was well in the lion's den this evening?" he began.

"Oh, yeah. The usual crowd. Colin Creevy had to get his camera out and get lots of pictures of the princes with everyone who is muggle-born or –raised, to share with family. Although, for their part, the princes seemed most intrigued with the people who had no idea who they were. Draco was visiting, and Ron was there, and the princes kept asking them questions. The princes want to stay here through at least tomorrow afternoon, to see the Slytherin-Ravenclaw Quidditch game. Oh, and they really seem to like Neville, too. I think it was Wills who worked in the greenhouses this summer, when Neville sort of managed them for Professor Sprout, and they hit it off. Neville hadn't heard from his gram for a few days and he needed to tell her about his plans for the holiday. He was starting to worry, so I'm glad you mentioned that she'd taken on an assignment with the Auror's Office. Wills was told Neville about his grandmother's travel schedule, so Neville found out where his grandmother was, too."

Severus was processing that cacophony of images: Draco and Weasley, together charming royalty. Photos for muggle family members of their wizard children with the princes. Longbottom making a good impression and getting his family news from them. Before he could say anything, though, Harry added a final detail. "The princes decided to try life as students here for at least a night, so we expanded the dorm to accommodate two extra beds. Draco and I walked back down together, and Filch is none the wiser even though it's after curfew."

As Harry stood to get a glass of pumpkin juice from the kitchen, he added, "The princes said that their family would be spending the holidays at Balmoral Castle, probably in a few weeks or so. They said they'd floo over for a visit. I think they enjoy being here."

"I would imagine that the experience of Hogwarts Castle is rather memorable for most. In any case, I expect that more people than usual will be staying in the Castle over the winter break this year," Severus ventured, neutrally.

As Harry resumed his place on the couch, he asked, "Is that what the Headmaster wanted to discuss with you, before?"

Severus shrugged in his elegant way. "That was part of it. We do expect the families of Ministry workers in particular to choose to spend the holidays here, as they have been targeted in the most recent round of attacks."

"And what else?" Harry prodded.

"The Headmaster contacted the Ministry after we met with him this afternoon, regarding the vision you got today from the ravens. He was particularly concerned that you saw the kind of weaponry that you did. This is the weaponry that we'd learned was being stockpiled by the wizards behind the muggle anti-magic movement. He told me that he'd heard nothing from the Ministry about the weapons being moved, which would of course be necessary to support the attack you saw." Severus' scowl deepened. "It turned out that there had, in fact, been some reports of shipments of goods north. The fools in the Ministry tasked with tracking the warehouses in which we believe the weapons were stored apparently forgot that magic can cause things to appear other than as they truly are. There had been a number of small packages moved from those facilities in the last week, and those reports were not escalated because they were deemed irrelevant."

Harry would have chuckled at the story but for the really fierce scowl that remained on Severus' face. There must still be more to it than this, because frankly, a Ministry screw-up ought not engender quite that level of anger.

"So, there must be more to it then, Severus. Why are you so upset? We suspected all along that the weapons were being stockpiled for an attack, and now we have confirmation that the attack is being planned. Not good news, but better to know, I guess. What am I missing?" he asked.

Severus directed a particularly fierce glare at the fire as he sought to control his raging emotions. "It is not so much about "missing" as being present," he spat, although that particular answer only made Harry look more confused.

"This is not your battle to fight," Severus went on. "I've told you that. There will be a battle after this, you will have a role then. Not now. I proposed to the Headmaster that you and I leave Hogwarts in a few days, for the holidays, lest there be any exacerbation of hostilities because of your presence, or any expectation of your participation. He is adamant that we remain here."

Harry's head was spinning. It was completely unlike the Severus he thought he was beginning to know to run away from something, rather than confront it. And, beyond that, where could they go where the protections were even comparable to the wards at Hogwarts? It would seem, from all perspectives, that staying here was the best course of action, no matter this concern with one battle versus another.

"I'm confused. These are the strongest wards in England, right here. Isn't this the safest place to be? Isn't that why others want to come here for the holidays?" he asked, still a bit tentative given Severus' clear irritation. "Although, your sister owled me that our compound in the Winter Lands is just about finished. If you want, maybe we could go there for a few days."

Severus seemed just momentarily distracted from his pout by the reference to the compound. "I assume you just had wards set there?" he asked, and in response, Harry nodded. "You always wait at least a month before relying on new wards, to give them time to root to the earth," he commented, sounding very much like a professor. "But that isn't really the point, anyway."

Harry puzzled over the emotional response Severus seemed to be having to this situation. The issue to him did not seem to be as much about where they would go if they did not stay here, but the fact that Severus felt very strongly indeed about this coming battle not being Harry's to fight. That had come up several times of the past and they'd discussed it. Severus was always a bit vague as to the basis for his absolute certainty on the point, but Harry hadn't argued the matter before and he really did not plan to argue now. So what got Severus all stirred up like this?

"I told you before that I was going to heed your warning, and not look to get into this battle. I'm not sure I understand how this connects to your desire to leave Hogwarts – I can't imagine anywhere safer. What am I missing?" he pressed.

Severus took a deep, almost shaky breath. "If you are in the castle and things get tense, or if the battle is not going well, you will want to help. Your nature will demand that you step forward, and you cannot. It is not your time. If you are not here, that cannot happen." His tone and words revealed the absolute depth of Severus' conviction on this matter. But where did all that emotion come from?

Harry was about to give vent to his own building frustration that Severus wasn't listening to him: they were safe here, Harry had promised he wasn't going to get involved in any battle that occurred. Before he could get the first word of his building diatribe out, though, two thoughts sprang into his mind, where they promptly collided.

That emotion on Severus' face was frustration! Harry had certainly promised to take Severus seriously on this issue. But maybe the Headmaster had not.

"Did you discuss this with Professor Dumbledore?" he ventured.

"Yes. He feels I am being overly protective and quite paranoid," Severus spat. "The Ministry people got confirmation from their muggle counterparts of some activity again at that dreadful muggle's estate near here, just like last time. Does the old fool think they are having a harmless reunion? They are learning to use the old weapons, and plotting a new strategy! I know it. And I think I know you well enough that you will want to engage when they arrive here. And I don't want you tempted. It isn't your time."

Harry nodded somberly. The Headmaster had not respected Severus' statement, that was clear. He'd either tried to persuade him he was wrong, or he patronized him. Either way, he could see Severus' frustration.

"Well, the Headmaster's feelings don't matter. I believe you. I give you my word that I will honor your request. This coming battle isn't mine to fight, and I will not be available to fight it. When it begins, we can go to the Chamber of Secrets – no one will be able to find us, and we will reappear when the battle is over."

Severus looked inordinately relieved by this statement of Harry's confidence in him. Harry put his juice glass down and slid over to sit right next to Severus on the couch, pulling the older man into a hug, consoling him.

While Harry knew that he had to attend to Severus right now, his mind was reeling with the other thought, the one that made him see that he had to agree to what Severus wanted. That woman Hermione Granger had spoken to was absolutely right. How could they all have missed this?

Harry was spewing magic that day in the Ministry – nothing was being added to his magic. It was Severus whose magic was blown apart. It was Severus who was thus absorbing magic as his own began to coalesce, most likely from the man killed by the blast of magic from Harry. Harry didn't even fit Hermione's profile; Severus did. Harry even remembered now that, as he'd held Severus' magic together in the aftermath of the attack, that he thought some of it felt different. Of course, he'd assumed that might have been from the spell that glanced off him, or that maybe magic didn't go back together exactly as it had been before. It was just as likely that he'd added some magic to his own.

Severus wasn't paranoid and he wasn't being over protective. He had acquired magic that provided him with some sort of sight – nothing as nuanced as that lady seemed to have, but clearly he had vision of events to come.

As Harry leaned into Severus to deepen the hug and allow his tongue to trace kisses across his ear and jaw, his mind was racing to reconstruct some of Severus' statements and actions since recovering from the attack in the Ministry. This insistence that there would be three battles was among the most frequent and clear of his statements – three battles, no role for Harry until the third. He felt concern about safety in the palace earlier this evening. Is it possible he sensed that there was about to be an attack? He'd been very insistent on working on wandless magic, too. In truth, though, the Headmaster supported that just as much, and Harry wasn't exactly sure whose idea that had been at first. And the dueling? But that had begun last year, before the attack.

His own pleasure at seeing Severus being distracted by his attentions began to distract Harry as well. He'd think on this more, tomorrow. For now, he helped Severus stand and led him into the bedroom. He had an idea of how he could get Severus' mind off of his frustration and use up his extra energy, so they could get a few hours sleep in what was left of the night. Harry flicked his wand to conjure up the big double bathtub they enjoyed so much, and set about getting his bondmate into it for some pre-bedtime activity.

At least tomorrow is Saturday – no classes!

X X X X X X X X X X

A full night spent with the Gryffindor seventh year boys assured that princes would be looking forward to their first Quidditch game like no other event in their lives. They'd seen flying, of course, over the summer, and they realized that some sort of game seem to be played informally among some of the stronger flyers. But as they listened to the enthusiastic discussion of strategies and tactics, and descriptions of some of the more memorable moves and games, they were really drawn in.

They were also very taken with how very at ease they felt in the dorm, and it almost felt familiar to them. The physical setting couldn't be more unusual, of course – muggle schools today did not have four-poster beds with heavy curtains, nor were the rooms heated with small braziers, and while there might be places that had massive common rooms with imposing fireplaces and oil paintings, the paintings didn't participate in the conversations. But there was a camaraderie among the students, and easy-going banter that was just like the schools they'd attended.

The princes were ensconced at the Gryffindor table at breakfast, largely ignored by the rest of the castle population, when Harry caught up to them the next morning. Harry couldn't squeeze in near Hermione and Ron, so he took a seat next to Neville. He allowed himself to get caught up in the conversation about the game later that morning, and joined the crowd heading down to the Quidditch pitch after the meal was over.

Harry had forced himself to get past the images that still wracked his conscience when he remembered the appearance of the demon. Sometimes that felt like it had happened a life-time ago, and other times, it felt like it happened yesterday. But when the school rebuilt the pitch, he had made a conscious effort to go back. It was less painful each time he went down there, and it enabled him to watch or play in Quidditch games, which he loved. Harry's only concession to his horrible memories was his insistence on watching games from anywhere but the stand he'd been in that fateful day. He wasn't sure that anyone even realized what he was doing now, although it was most likely that Hermione had noticed and figured it out.

As the group coalesced into a rooting section in the stands, Harry saw to it that the princes got to sit with Ron and Dean (for a thorough play-by-play explanation of what was going on in the game), and he made sure he was next to Hermione. It was a cold, crisp day, with the thin, sharp sunlight of early winter, and as he pulled his cloak a bit closer to keep out the chill, Hermione was quick to get her wand and cast a warming spell around the little knot of students.

Harry joined in the enthusiastic wait for the dramatic entry of the players, imagining for a moment what this must look like to people, like the princes, seeing it for the very first time. Harry had actually been a player in the first Quidditch game he ever attended, so his first exposure to the sport of Quidditch did not include watching the players fly onto the field. He saw Seamus point to the doors from the lockers under the stands, right across from where they sat, smiling as he realized that others found that moment as special a part of the game as he did.

The noise level in the stands crested as the doors swung open and the players from both teams flew out in formation, swooping over the stands in warm-up laps, coming to hover in their places. The princes' jaws were slack at the sight. And it only got better when the balls and snitch were released. They offered up a running commentary about their astonishment not only with the speed and precision of the game, but the fact that young women were on the team, playing just as fiercely and forcefully as young men in their midst.

After watching for a few minutes, Harry caught Hermione's attention, and she leaned in to hear what he wanted to tell her.

"Hermione, I realized last night that the woman you spoke to about your research, Mr. Malfoy's friend, is absolutely right. I can't imagine how we didn't see this right off," he began.

She was very excited at the news. "Oh, Harry, that's wonderful! Something significant has come to you? What? Tell me!"

"No, 'Mione. Not me. She was right to question that we thought it was me. I was spewing magic that day, sending it out, not bringing it in. I don't fit your profile at all. It's Severus, not me. His magic was broken apart by the spell the assassin cast, right before my magic killed him. When the assassin died, his magic broke loose, according to your theory, and the one whose magic was in the process of pulling itself back together was Severus. I don't know if I told you this, but as soon as I calmed down that day and went to Severus, I thought his magic was fragmented. I held it together, in case that would help him. It felt a little "off" as it came back together, but I assumed that maybe once it was blown apart, magic didn't necessarily reassemble itself just as it had been before. It was still Severus' magic, even if it felt a little different."

Hermione wrinkled her brow as she thought on that. She had to admit, Professor Snape actually did fit into her theory, where Harry did not. She looked back at Harry, about to ask what led to his realization, when he continued.

"Severus has said a few times that there are going to be three battles, and I'm not to participate until the third one. I gather he regards the little muggle attack force that the Headmaster stopped with magic as the first battle. We think the muggles are now looking to attack again with old weapons. Severus is really worried that I'll try to get myself involved in that. He talked to the Headmaster about all this yesterday, and it would seem that Professor Dumbledore either did not believe him, or patronized him – Severus was beyond frustrated that he wasn't being taken seriously about this."

"Is that it, Harry?" Hermione whispered, slightly disappointed. "That's the only evidence we have?"

"I tried to think of other examples. Earlier last night, when we were at Buckingham Palace, Severus wanted to take the portkey back as soon as the taping was finished – he was concerned it wasn't safe. We were attacked there within half an hour. That's what I have. But, really, this "three battles" stuff is so not like Severus. That's what nailed it for me."

Hermione looked a bit ill at ease. "I don't think I can use this for my paper. I can't imagine that Professor Snape would want to disclose this, it's not something I can imagine him being enthused about. Madam Bunswil said the assassin's family would almost certainly deny the Roma connection."

"Maybe this goes beyond your paper, 'Mione. Maybe Severus has something here that could really help us, or at least me, right now, in defeating Voldemort" Harry ventured. This was a possible resource, or even weapon, that could help them. While he wouldn't want to be so blunt about it, Hermione's paper could wait.

She had the grace to blush. "Of course, I apologize. I'm fixated on the paper, but obviously this is so much bigger. Did you tell Professor Snape what you suspect?"

Now it was Harry's turn to blush. "No, I wasn't sure how he'd react to that. I mean, he's always lived in this world, and maybe he feels as you said the Headmaster did about things that are connected to the Roma. We both know how he feels about anything related to visions and predictions – that won't go over well. I figured I speak to you about this, and if you agreed it's likely that he has some new magic, we could figure out together how to tell him."

Hermione got that really thoughtful look that she tended to get when thinking really hard, or plotting. "Mmmm. I wonder. Maybe I could ask Madam Bunswil to return to Hogwarts, and we could arrange for her to meet the Professor? She'd know in an instant if he's got the assassin's magic in him. Since she has this kind of magic, maybe she can even help him understand and use it better. She said the assassin was likely a weak wizard, and suggested that it was her power and awareness of this magic that enabled her to use it. Maybe . . . " Before she allowed herself to go too far with all this, she realized it might be wise to check with her friend. "What do you think, Harry?"

"Do you think she'd come back?" he asked.

"You know, I think she would. She seemed quite interested in the theory when I described it to her, and she was very willing to share her ideas. No harm in asking. Although Professor Dumbledore did make a point about my having to meet with her in his presence. Something about a Board of Governors' rule about faculty being present if students meet at Hogwarts with an adult not in their family."

Harry quirked his eyebrows at that – yet another rule he'd managed to not hear about. "How about you invite her to meet with you, me and Severus in my offices? Or maybe even in our rooms? Make this personal, not school related. We'll have Severus there either way, so the school rule about a faculty member being present is satisfied."

Hermione smiled, the delay in getting the additional proof she needed for her article now forgotten. It was much more exciting to have something really important to work on, and she was sure this would be very interesting. If this completely confirmed her theory, it would just be a matter of waiting on the next, less politically significant, event to occur, and she'd prove it then.

The game went a bit longer than usual, as the snitch was proving to be particularly evasive. No one left the stands (no one ever did that) and enthusiasm for the outcome never flagged, but pretty much everywhere, members of more senior classes were casting warming charms for themselves and the younger students. The score was a very close, and very high, 200 to 190, Ravenclaw just edging Slytherin, when Draco finally spotted the snitch down near the grass and darted through the players to grab it. The Ravenclaw Seeker had not spotted it, and unfortunately for his team, had not immediately noticed Draco's dive. By the time he joined in the chase, Draco had established too much of a lead, and it was all over in a matter of seconds. With the 150 points awarded to Slytherin for catching the snitch, the game was over and the victory was theirs.

As the students were entering the Great Hall for a slightly late lunch, Harry excused himself to find Severus. He had that funny feeling he tended to get before a visit from the ravens, and wanted to be in the privacy of his rooms when that visit occurred. Severus had been seated with the faculty, and was already heading toward the Head Table.

Harry was alone when the ravens made their daily visit, today wanting to show him a large gathering of muggles in a field, in groups, learning to use bows and arrows, something that looked like a siege engine, and a few other contraptions that Harry did not immediately recognize. He tried to get as close a look as possible at the devices, so he could describe them later. Harry confirmed that they were all men, something like an army, but not members of the military based on their casual dress. Harry could not figure out if anyone in the scene he saw was the leader of the group. There were several people who seemed to be teaching the others, so this was not an event that would occur in the very hear future. Actually, he did not perceive and the ravens did not communicate a sense of great urgency in the muggles' activity. That might be interesting. The men were in active training, but not rushing the situation.

Harry summoned a house elf to bring him a plate of sandwiches and a jug pumpkin juice, and he sat at the desk to write down as much as he could recall about what he'd seen in the vision as he had his lunch. He hoped he'd gotten all the information that was being presented; it was so much better when Severus helped him by asking questions, as he always feared he missed details.

Harry was just finishing the last sandwich and reviewing his note a final time when he heard voices out in the hall, shouting. Even if the Slytherins were up to something out there, they were never this loud, and not usually anywhere near the entrance to his and Severus' rooms. His wand in hand, Harry rushed to the door and pressed his ear to the jamb to get a better sense of what was happening before he opened the door. It did not sound as if the voices were just outside, so he cautiously cracked the door open and inched his way around the jamb to peek into the corridor.

Severus came into view first, back to the far wall of the dimly-lit corridor, wand drawn and in one of the classic dueling positions he'd been teaching Harry. The shimmer in the air told Harry that Severus had a shield in place, so he was safe. Harry knew better than to attempt to disrupt someone clearly focused on defensive moves, appreciating that distraction could result in serious harm to Severus. He waited for a moment for an opening or some opportunity to help Severus that would not put him in any jeopardy. The argument between Severus and his attacker began again.

"You Slytherin bastard! I should have known better than to trust you! All your lies about doing the honorable thing and providing for him – scum, just like everyone else in your House."

Wait a second – Harry recognized that voice. That was Sirius, and from the crack that accompanied the voice, he'd just shot a spell at Severus.

Sure enough, Severus replied "Black, you idiot! I have not gone back on a single commitment, nor have I reneged on any promise. What in Merlin's name's gotten into you? Are you hallucinating? Has all that time with the Dementors finally come home to roost? You've lost your mind."

At least Severus had apparently dodged the spell, as he was able to speak. In fact, there was an additional crack at that point, suggesting he had just retaliated.

Harry had no idea what spells were being used in such close quarters, but he was pretty sure the ones Severus and Sirius had just shot at each other had damaged the stones in the corridor. This was not a friendly encounter – those were powerful spells likely intended to do some significant harm. He thought fast – he'd have just one chance to surprise them both and put an end to this nonsense; if he did this poorly, he or one of them could be really hurt, if not killed.

Hoping that he was competent enough with his wandless magic to be able to disable both combatants simultaneously, Harry jumped into the corridor casting his spell. He was beyond relieved to see that both Severus' and Sirius' wands had been yanked from their hands and were now floating toward him, although it appeared that all he did was take magic out of the fight. The two men were still crouched and ready to pounce at each other, fists up. Neither so much as looked at him, and the men began to shift about, clearly planning now to continue the fight with what was at hand.

Once he'd confiscated their wands, and realized that he had not actually stopped the fight, Harry was not entirely certain what to do next. He had no intention of standing here, watching his bondmate and his godfather brawl. There was probably a rule of some sort about this, but he really wanted it to stop before someone got hurt. Given the looks the two men had on their faces, that was a distinct possibility. As Harry dithered, Sirius pounced forward and sent a punch at Severus' head, which the taller man ducked as he launched his own fist toward Sirius' stomach. That punch landed, as Harry heard the "oof" as Sirius lost his breath. Severus wasn't leaving it at that, and Harry was horrified to see him pulling his fist back, apparently intent on cracking Sirius' head back against the wall. That could kill him, or at least do damage to his brain! This was going too far. Harry sent out a pulse of magic this time that froze both men where they stood.

"Alright you two – enough! What in Merlin's name are you doing? This is disgraceful. What is the problem?" he yelled. When he realized that the two combatants were now just staring at each other, as they no longer had wands or fists under their command with which to fight, he pivoted their frozen forms where they stood, physically breaking the stares if neither would back down any other way. Finally, the two furious men were looking at Harry.

"I want an explanation for this," Harry demanded, angrier than he'd ever been before. "You could've hurt each other! Two wizards as strong as you two are – one of you could be killed! What started this? What is this about?"

Severus' murderous expression was now directed at Harry and he found the experience distinctly unpleasant – this was significant worse than even the fiercest scowl he'd seen on the man's face as a student. "Release me immediately, Potter. It's not your place to interfere. This is between Black and me."

"Um, no. Whatever is going on here is between two people about whom I care a great deal, so I am going to interfere. I do not want you two hurting each other, and I'm not releasing you until we get this straight."

Severus looked so mad that Harry was tempted to check to see if smoke was coming out the man's ears. He quickly looked at Sirius, angry but a bit less focused. "Harry, this really is between Snivellus and me, not you. Please, release us and go back into your rooms."

"No, I can stand here all afternoon if necessary, to get this sorted. Tell me what this is about," Harry insisted, just as stubborn as the other two. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned his shoulder against the wall, quirking his eyebrows at the two men frozen into combat positions but facing him, instead of each other.

Predictably, Sirius lasted just a few minutes that way. "Harry, this is not your problem," he began. To Harry's very hard look in response to that statement, he sighed and went on. "I learned that you have felt it necessary to build a home for yourself in the Winter Lands, despite Severus' commitment to provide for you. If he's not treating you well, or not providing adequately, that is my problem, as your godfather. I arrived at Hogwarts a few moments ago and called Severus on his failings as your bondmate, and this is where you interrupted us."

Now Harry was the one who looked the maddest of the trio. "Are you daft?" he spat at Sirius. "Severus is the most honorable person I've ever met. He has fulfilled every obligation to a fare-thee-well. I want for nothing. That Winter Land compound was to be his Christmas present, for Merlin's sake! Lord Brand said I could have a compound and set it up to Severus' liking, but as I'm technically the citizen there, it has to be recorded there in my name. Why can't I do that for my bondmate?"

Now turning to Severus, Harry went on, still spitting mad. "And why couldn't you have explained any of that to Sirius, instead of allowing this to become a brawl? I gave up that this was going to be a surprise Christmas gift for you because of the potions laboratory I'm adding to the house. You saw the place and you knew what I was doing! Why did it have to get this far?"

"Because, Mr. Potter," Severus purred menacingly, "this is not about a house, it is about honor. When your godfather challenged me for not living up to my obligations to you, the rules of honor demanded that I defend myself. Anything less dishonors me. The appropriate response is a duel, but you disrupted that. Under the circumstances, we fight."

Harry was taken aback, and stood still as he pondered that, reflecting back on the scene he'd encountered on a long-ago visit to the Ministry – Severus and Sirius united and fighting duels one after another against a long line of challengers who had done nothing but drop a gauntlet before Severus. Honor at that point apparently demanded duels, likely to the death. He had been physically restrained from interfering in the duel Severus was fighting lest he dishonor the man, so he'd had to wait for Severus to prevail or his opponent to withdraw. If he hadn't blasted the entire line of challengers down the hall, every last one of them would have had to be fought in order for Severus to preserve his honor.

Finally, with a sigh, Harry stood with his feet apart and his arms crossed. "This is absurd. That rule of honor is ridiculous. You are an honorable man, Severus. Some stupid challenge, or ill-considered statement from Sirius or anyone else, doesn't change that one knut. I will not have you putting your life in jeopardy over these stupid challenges to your honor. As far as I am concerned, your honor cannot be challenged. You do not have to fight every idiot who thinks to start a fight with you or do something stupid thing that in your mind represents dishonor. That's what I think."

He didn't see it behind him, but Severus and Sirius were startled when a fiery scroll appeared in the air behind Harry, and began to record his decree. Even without a formal pronouncement of "Lex Legis Regalis," or possibly with a wandless reading of his magic's intent, the King's Law had been invoked with the passion of Harry's statement. The scroll recorded "The honor of Severus Snape cannot be challenged. He is not to fight any who seek to challenge it, and his honor is not to be diminished in any way by his refusal to fight to defend his honor."

Noticing that the menace had bled from the faces of Severus and Sirius, Harry released the spell holding them fast with a wave of his hand. "I'm going into our rooms, Severus, and I will be leaving the wands on the desk. I'd like you to join me. You are welcome, too, Sirius. But the fighting stops." With that, Harry returned to his rooms and closed the door.

The combatants each stood up straight and flexed muscles that protested being held in the unnatural crouches. They looked with some wonder at each other, and then at the scroll that still hung in the air behind where Harry had just stood. With a little shimmer, the fiery scroll disappeared just as a copy appeared before both men.

Sirius pulled his from the air, and looked at the apparently official and enforceable pronouncement of Severus' honor. Severus also inspected his copy, pondering what this meant. "I suspect that magic will enforce this cessation of hostilities, Black," he muttered. The shock of this turn of events had put the issue of Winter Lands compounds and honor out of the minds of both men, as they considered what had occurred and what it meant.

Sirius tried to repeat the statements he'd made just a few minutes ago, the ones that led to this, and discovered that he could not form the words. Severus saw what he was trying to do, and was as surprised as Sirius that he was not able to say them again. "I can't say the words. My voice and mouth won't work."

Severus went to draw back his fist, intending to see if he could resume the hostilities even if the insult could not be refreshed, and discovered that his arm was unable to move back toward Sirius. He could make a fist and draw his arm into a position from which to strike, but he could not send a punch at Sirius.

"Well, this is an interesting development," Sirius smiled. "It would appear we have been thwarted. Why didn't you try to explain the situation, you greasy bat?"

"You hardly gave me any opportunity, you lunatic."

Harry looked up as they entered the rooms. Bickering and even a certain level of hostility he could live with. Outright war, he could not.

X X X X X X X X X X

Petunia was helping Vernon pack an overnight bag. He had a pile of clothes stacked on their bed that probably did not represent a particularly outrageous number of clothes, but given the size of his garments, they represented far more than was going to fit into anything that looked like less than a steamer trunk. Petunia was doing her best to identify the clothing that her husband truly needed, so that he'd have what he needed and not look like he was about to move into his host's manor.

"Now, now, darling. It's just an overnight visit. One change of clothes for tomorrow is really the most important, and a nightshirt. I doubt you'll need to dress for dinner. We can pack in an extra shirt and a nice tie for this evening if you feel you need to freshen up from the day. Maybe one extra pair of shoes, in case these get muddy," she fussed, winnowing down the pile to a much more manageable quantity.

Vernon was terribly concerned that he'd not have the right clothes and accessories, and this being his first visit to the manor of a peer of the realm, he wanted to appear worldly and self-assured.

When Sir Harold had called on Friday afternoon to extend the invitation, Miss Enderlee was beside herself with excitement, and the entire office knew of the call and the invitation before Vernon had even hung up the telephone. It was just a short visit to Sir Harold's manor, arranged so that Sir Harold and his retainers could show off his anti-magic army to the leaders of the anti-magic movement. Vernon, Reggie and Charles were going to fly up with Sir Harold in his personal helicopter. Vernon was a bit worried about that, but was intent on looking like he did this every day.

The big issue was wardrobe. He really wasn't sure what was necessary or appropriate, and desperate to look like events like this were a regular part of his life. His wife was somewhat more attuned to fashion, so he finally decided to rely on her to do his packing, and he took a seat on the far side of the bed to be out of her way.

"And what time did Sir Harold say he'd have a car 'round to collect you, Vernon?" she asked, as she added the last pair of socks and a carefully rolled tie.

"Half past two, he said. Let me get this bag downstairs, then, Petunia. I want to be ready when they arrive."

Vernon had no sooner gotten the bag down to the foyer than a black Rolls Royce Silver Shadow Saloon turned onto Privet Drive and came to a halt in front of No. 4. A liveried driver stepped out and proceeded to the door. Vernon did his very best to look like a man used to being collected from his home by people driving large luxury cars, although the fact that half the neighbors were now peeking out of the windows of their homes might suggest that the appearance of a vehicle like this was something of a rarity in Little Whinging.

With a peck on the cheek for his wife, Vernon handed his valise over to the driver and followed the man down to the car, settling his substantial girth into the cavernous back seat.

[A/N – I am so excited – just yesterday, my story passed 500,000 hits on . I'm lagging on the review numbers (hint, hint) but am really thrilled to know that there are so many folks out there reading along with me.

I've got most of the next chapter semi-written in my head, so there is a possibility of the next chapter getting up sooner than I've been updating lately, but just in case, let me take this opportunity to wish all you wonderful people the very best of holidays!]


	58. Ch 135 Fish Out Of Water

Chapter 135 – Fish Out of Water

Harry was livid that Severus and Sirius had allowed their mutual antagonism to progress to a duel – how dare they! He was pacing around the sitting room, unable to sit quietly, his robes swirling about him in a manner very reminiscent of the dungeon's other resident. The two people he cared most about, and there they were, trying to kill each other! He was glad that he removed their wands and immobilized them, he thought, as he put the two wands on the desk. While he supposed they could do some damage to each other with their fists, that did not seem so immediately lethal as the kinds of spells they were sending at each other. At least they seemed to have calmed down very significantly once he'd yelled at them. He wasn't too worried about leaving them in the hall, even as he cancelled his spell, although he was acutely aware of the time and ready to go after them if they didn't come in to retrieve their wands in a few minutes.

When the two older wizards followed Harry into his rooms moments later, they still showed signs of being annoyed at each other, but both had cooled significantly. Harry stopped mid-swirl when the two entered. "Calmed down now, have you?" he asked, still a bite in his tone.

Sirius reached him first, retrieving his wand with one hand, while pulling Harry into a hug around the shoulder with the other, planting a kiss atop the shorter wizard's head. "Yeah, Pronglet. We're OK now, thanks to you."

Severus collected his own wand, directing a look of disapproval at the man now blatantly pawing his bondmate. His anger might have dissipated, but he was left in an unsettled frame of mind. He chose to ignore Sirius. "Did you wish to speak to me, Harry?" he asked.

Harry moved away from Sirius and turned to face them both. "Actually, I did. I had a visit from the ravens right before lunch. I asked for sandwiches here so I could write down my notes once they left, so I didn't forget anything. Severus, you always help me capture the details, so I hope I got it all. But I certainly didn't expect a visit today, after they visited yesterday, and once it began, I couldn't go to you."

Sirius looked confused and a bit concerned. "Ravens? They're still coming around?" He'd learned about the ravens in general, in conversation with Harry, but was unaware that they had become Harry's more regular companions.

"Yeah, Padfoot. They've been visiting again for a while. They were interrupting me in class, so I asked that they visit before lunch."

Sirius shot a look at Severus, who scowled back, but shrugged – yes, these magical familiars accommodated Harry's preferences.

"I usually come to Severus' office before lunch, and I describe what I'm seeing to him, and he asks questions if anything isn't clear. I didn't expect them today, after a really detailed vision yesterday, but they came anyway. Still the same old-time weapons as yesterday; bows and arrows, that sort of thing. Like yesterday, maybe 50 men, not wearing uniforms, in a field, learning to use the weapons. Like the first time, before the first attack. No great sense of urgency – that was actually the strongest feeling I got from the ravens today. The men are learning, and probably planning, but it's not something that will happen immediately."

Severus looked thoughtful at the news. "That is good to know. I shall let the Headmaster know."

Severus moved toward the door, but Harry wasn't done. He chose his words carefully, since they weren't alone. "Actually, there's more. I'd like to ask a favor of you. I'd like you to meet with Hermione and me and that lady that Mr. Malfoy asked to help identify the man who attacked you."

Again, Sirius looked concerned. "I wouldn't trust anyone Malfoy works with," he spat.

"Actually, Black, she's already been here. Madam Bunswil – name ring a bell?" Severus replied snarkily, fairly certain that even the lone Gryffindor from an ancient Slytherin family would recognize that name immediately.

Severus' supposition was correct. "Her! She's been to Hogwarts? What is Albus thinking? My blasted grandfather, and my father, thought the world of her, hardly a sterling recommendation. She was always tied up in their business, and you can imagine what that involved!" Sirius sputtered, his agitation clear.

"Calm down, the two of you," Harry said, taking control of the conversation again. "Madam Bunswil met with Hermione, and Hermione was actually very impressed with her. She's got some strange talent – she apparently picks up all kinds of things about people from their magic. She made her living by helping some of the old families" – he waved his hand to quiet Sirius, who was clearly about to burst – "yes, mostly Slytherin families, assess the people they were going to do business with, or even people they proposed to marry their children to."

"Why on earth would Granger want to speak to her?" Sirius asked, at least now past his gut reaction to the old Slytherin confidante.

"Hermione has a theory that magic gets loose, and gets picked up by others, when someone dies violently. She figured that's how I became a parselmouth, from Voldemort, and how I got the ravens, from the Eye of Odin. She's been researching other incidents. She sent her article to a journal and the editor asked for more proof. She figured the man who attacked Severus died violently, so maybe his magic was loose, and we assumed I might have picked up some of it. She wanted to learn as much as she could about his magic, so we'd know what to look out for if I, or anyone else who was at the ceremony, showed signs of having acquired his magic. The Aurors hadn't got anywhere on that case, so Mr. Malfoy asked Madam Bunswil to help, and she identified the man. Of course, Hermione wanted to know more than just his name, so she asked if she could meet with her. Madam Bunswil visited here a week or so ago. Hermione met with her in the Headmaster's office."

Severus stroked his chin, watching Sirius calm down. Curious. The man's emotions were stirred so easily – it took very little, really, to get him extremely upset. But it all turned off, just as fast, if someone simply gave him answers to his questions. That particular answer should have provoked quite a few more questions, if not a rant in its own right. Yet here was Black, intellectual curiosity of a flobberworm, quite satisfied.

Sure enough, Sirius took his leave just a moment later, with the rather useless observation "Well, you need to be careful with that woman, given the company she's kept over the years!"

When the door closed behind Sirius, Severus turned his attention back to Harry.

"That was not much in terms of news from the ravens today," he observed.

Harry handed over the parchment. "Well, there might be a bit more there that you and the Headmaster can ferret out. I wrote down notes as soon as they left. But the main thing, really, from them today was that this is preparation, not an immediate attack."

Severus nodded as he took the parchment, but kept his eyes on Harry. "Is there more about this Bunswil woman? Why did you even bring that up in front of Black?"

Harry suspected he was caught out, but soldiered on, nonetheless. "Actually, that was the reason I wanted to speak to you, but Sirius was here. I didn't think it would get quite the reaction it did, but it's important. I really need for you to meet with Madam Bunswil. I'd like to arrange a meeting with Hermione, you, me and her, if that's OK? Hermione said the Headmaster said something about students aren't supposed to meet privately with someone who is not a relative without a member of staff being present."

"I'm to be a chaperone?" Severus asked, confused and growing suspicious.

"No, not really." Harry sighed, realizing this wasn't going to work if he didn't come clean about the reason for the meeting. "Actually, we think we have figured out what happened to the would-be assassin's magic. It was broken up when he was killed, and I think it did get absorbed by someone. This might actually prove to be really important to the fight against Voldemort, so I want us to be sure and to understand what is happening."

Severus leveled a look at Harry that went past questioning, to demanding. Harry realized he had to continue.

"Madam Bunswil told Hermione a few things about the man who died, about his magic. I've seen evidence of that magic recently, and want to confirm my suspicions. If this is real, we need to know that and learn how to use it."

Severus' look told Harry that his bondmate still wasn't satisfied, even though the man remained silent.

"I think you absorbed some of that man's magic, Severus."

Harry realized he was holding his breath as he watched Severus' reaction to that news. It was an interesting display of emotions on the normally stoic face: rage, for sure, disgust, a bit. But there might have been some fear in there, too. And anger. Not surprisingly, given that this was Severus, anger asserted itself most prominently.

Severus struggled briefly to get himself under control. "This is nonsense. I perceive nothing different about my magic. You are way off here, you and your little friend," he sneered. He swirled as he made his way to the door.

Harry nearly ran to get in front of Severus, to block his exit, and was as placating as he could be. "No, Severus, I'm not off. We were all looking for me to show some of that man's magic, because we assumed I'd be the one who would grab it, given my past. But I realized the other day, I don't fit the profile here at all. My magic wasn't disturbed by the spell he cast; yours was. Hermione was told to look for instances where I had an insight or something that I just knew, but did not know how I knew it; that's a trait Madam Bunswil said she would expect, based on the man's magic."

Harry stopped for a second, to give Severus time to absorb what he just said. Then he continued, "You are the one who knows that there will be three battles, and I'm to participate in just the third."

Severus took a sharp breath as he considered this. It had bothered him for a while now, that absolute certainty about something, for which he had no explanation. Absorb another wizard's magic? It almost felt like a physical violation! But, it did answer that nagging question, he reluctantly supposed.

Taking advantage of Severus' distraction as he processed this information, Harry took him by the arm and led him to the sofa, getting him seated. Harry sat next to him, still holding his arm, looking at him with concern. "Look, it's a bit of a shock, I know that. But really, it all fits. If we can confirm what's going on, and maybe even find out how you can make this happen at will, it will really help. Won't it?" Harry released his grip on Severus' bicep, and took the man's hand in both of his own.

For his part, Severus collected himself. Once again, he had to push his personal concerns aside, and focus on others; at least, he'd had lots of practice with that. He studied the flame in the fireplace as he thought this through. Finally, he relaxed a bit, and Harry smiled at him encouragingly.

"Well," Severus began slowly, nearly stopping there. "I don't see that I have a choice. I suppose I should draw some comfort from the fact that you have been adding magic to your already substantial supply, and you seem to be dealing with it."

Harry smiled warmly at that, and gave Severus' hand a squeeze. "Madam Bunswil told Hermione that her theory explained things she's been seeing for years. You see, she doesn't just see things about people with magic and their magical skills, but where the magic came from, the geography of it. She told Hermione that she's assessed the magic of people who she knew were from a particular place, but often found a bit of magic in them from someplace entirely different. There's every reason to believe that this is not such a rare occurrence." Harry's expression became hopeful. "You'll meet with her?"

Grudgingly, Severus nodded. "I shall do so, if she is willing to return to Hogwarts. But privately. I will share with you and your Miss Granger the ultimate conclusion; if Madam Bunswil confirms that she sees the assassin's magic in me, I will tell you that. The rest, . . . well, I'd prefer to speak to her on my own."

He quirked an eyebrow at Harry, inviting a response. For his part, Harry was beyond pleased that Severus had even agreed to the meeting with Madam Bunswil, and the fact that he and Hermione were to be excluded was not going to dampen that.

"No, no. I'm really glad you'll do this for me, Severus. Share what you are willing, but just learn what you can about this magic. It can help us," he said, as he caught sight of a second parchment in Severus' hands, beneath his note about the visit from the ravens. "What's the other parchment? I don't remember you having one in the hall. And didn't Sirius have one, just now?"

"Oh, this," Severus allowed, setting Harry's note aside and unfurling the parchment that recorded the latest King's Law. "It would appear that Magic read your intention out there in the corridor a bit more formally than you might have intended." He passed the parchment over to Harry, whose jaw went slack as he read it.

"How . . . What . . .. " Harry sputtered, not knowing where to begin.

Severus smirked as usual, but there was more amusement than snarkiness in his expression. "Eloquent as always, Mr. Potter. It would seem that, even though you did not specify that you were pronouncing a new law, Magic saw it that way. After the original parchment disappeared, Black and I were each provided with these copies for our reference. Curiously, it developed that Black could not utter the words that would call my honor into question, and I was unable to strike him for the words he'd uttered previously."

"How, exactly, does this work?" Harry wanted to know, gesturing with the parchment, and looking far less than pleased with this development, but intrigued in spite of that.

"Well, you saw what happened the first time you pronounced the King's Law. Your words were recorded on a charmed parchment, and a copy was left behind. Your words had the effect of law, and as a consequence of that first time, your beloved mongrel became a free man. Today, the same general process followed, even without your stating that you were pronouncing law."

"How can that happen? And what does it mean?" Harry went on. Then, with a gleam in his eyes, he added, "Can I use this to help us fight Voldemort?"

"All good questions, for which I have no answers. I am going to speak to the Headmaster. There might be references to this in some of those ancient manuscripts he located in the Headmasters' Library," Severus allowed with a sigh. "I'm sure Albus has kept them handy, just in case."

Severus accepted Harry's offer to set up an appointment for him to meet with Madam Bunswil at her earliest convenience while he paid a visit to the Headmaster with the parchment evidencing Harry's latest foray into the world of Kingship.

Albus was absolutely fascinated with the parchment that Severus presented to him after waving away the offered lemon drops. "Just like the first time, you say? But without any spell pronouncing this as law?" Albus probed.

"Yes, just like that other time, except without the spell. The words were burned into a parchment that appeared behind Potter. When he was done, that parchment disappeared and Black and I were presented with a copy each. Any challenge to my honor was simply not possible at that point. Black tried, but could not form the words." Severus decided to leave out his own attempts to attack Black for the words used earlier; the point was adequately made using Black as an example, he reasoned.

"Is it possible that Harry did this himself to stop your argument, maybe speaking the spell before he entered the hall?" Albus persisted.

"No, it is not possible. He was absolutely stunned to see the parchment, slack-jawed, actually. Dissembling is not his strong suit. I'm quite confident this is not a prank on his part. This is a real law, as pronounced by the King, even though he didn't specify it as such."

Albus looked like a child who'd been given a new and fascinating toy. "I will have to look into this, my boy. I will see if there is anything about this spontaneous pronouncement of King's Law in the Headmasters' Library, and maybe there's something about how this operates."

"Harry was most interested if this could be used in the effort against Voldemort," Severus volunteered.

"Of course, of course. He'd wanted to know if the King's Banishment could be used to banish Voldemort, I remember. I fear that there will be no easy solutions to Voldemort, even for a King. But, still, we want to know as much as we can about any unexpected weapons that present themselves to us," Albus agreed.

On the subject of another unexpected weapon, to Severus' slight surprise, Harry informed him when he returned to their rooms that Madam Bunswil was most willing indeed to return to Hogwarts, quite amenable to flooing to meet with him privately, and even offered to make the trip that very afternoon. Dobby had helped Harry arrange for her to step through the floo to their rooms, rather than use his office, to keep this visit as private as possible. After all, Harry's office was right next door to the Headmaster's office, so that might not be private enough.

Harry was working on a Charms project in the Gryffindor common room at the time he'd set for the appointment. He had figured if Severus was willing to invite him to any part of the meeting, it was best that he be easy to locate by a house elf, plus it gave him something to do while he waited for the outcome of this meeting.

Severus was as startled as Hermione had been by the old woman's appearance, a bohemian dowager with kind eyes and a very engaging disposition, not at all what he expected. After his own rather stilted, formal greetings, she declined his offer of tea in favor of a whiskey, neat. Severus was surprised, as that was his own drink of choice, and how he preferred to take it. He poured out two glasses, and sat across from his guest, looking as miserably uncomfortable as he felt.

Madam Bunswil wasted no time in starting a conversation, hoping to set the man at ease, but also to get onto the topic of his magic. "Lord Snape, it is quite a pleasure to meet you. I knew your father of course, not well, but we met a number of times, mostly through Lord Malfoy, senior, of course. And your mother – I'd met her perhaps twice, very briefly. I must say, your magic is not what I would have expected, based on your parents' magic. Usually, there are threads, similarities, that run through families. You are not," and here she paused for a beat as she tilted her head and peered at him intently, "well, not what I would have expected."

Severus swallowed. He bit back a sharp response to what he felt was a hugely presumptuous and insulting statement. He had to, given who she was and why she was there. He could not say nothing, however. "I am not sure, Madam, if I ought to take offense at that statement," he replied neutrally.

"A statement of fact, sir, not a value judgment, goodness, no," she waved him off. "Your father had an aggressive nature, evident in his magic, very worried about being taken advantage of, I think. He was not particularly sly or cunning, but vengeful. I remember your mother because she was such an interesting contrast to him. She was almost lost in her own world, fascinated as she was with old legends and her potion work. Perhaps you represent a very unique and unusual blending of their magic, drawing yours not from the topnotes of theirs, but from their deeper resonances. Most intriguing."

That was a surprisingly placating and perceptive answer, one that Severus immediately appreciated. He actually agreed whole-heartedly with this stranger's assessment of his parents, although he'd never considered her suggestion about himself. "And perhaps all the magic I have right now did not come directly from them," he ventured.

She sat back and tilted her head again, a smile playing on her lips. "That was apparent the moment I shook your hand, Lord Snape. Your family is of ancient British stock, I know that and it's obvious in your magic. But there is something in your magic that clearly is not from your magical lineage. It matches quite strongly the magic I detected in that awful young man who attacked you. I told your student, Miss Granger, that I've seen this phenomenon many times over the years. A bit of magic that's out of place. But there it is. And it is, most definitely, there in you."

Severus took a deep sip of his whiskey as he considered that. "Tell me about this magic," he said flatly.

"Gladly, my dear man," she began, a smile still on her face as she leaned forward and patted his arm. "It's actually quite exciting for me, you see. It's not terribly rare magic, in itself, but I don't believe I've ever encountered a situation where it was held by someone as magically powerful as you are. The possibilities here are most intriguing."

Madam Bunswill explained to Severus, as she had to Hermione, about the apparent presence of Roma magic in the Szlay clan, the nature of that magic, and her own personal experience, as a reasonably powerful witch with Roma heritage. He took it all in with what she felt was remarkable sang froid.

"And my path with this magic was largely uncharted," she continued. "I was the first member of my clan to be invited to Beauxbatons. I realized at school that I had a skill that others did not have. Not something to share with others, it seemed, but I worked hard on my own to understand it, learn more about it, and find out how to expand and exploit it."

Severus looked up sharply at that last statement. "Exploit this? How?"

"I came from modest means, and had I returned to my village, my path would have been the same as the one trod by my parents, and their parents, and so on. It was not what I wanted, so I knew I had to make my own way. I developed techniques to quiet my mind and bring these insights from my magic to the fore. Using this magic strengthened it, and made it easier to access, more available to me. I also came to realize that I could trust what this magic told me. There were people to whom these insights were valuable, and I had the good fortune to procure introductions among a number of them, all wealthy businessmen."

She leaned back and took a sip of her own whiskey before concluding, "And a hundred seventy-five years later, here I am!"

"Could you teach me how to use this magic?" Severus asked, almost in spite of himself.

"You are already a renowned Occlumens, Lord Snape, so you have fully mastered the hardest part of this, the element that defeats most with this magic. When your mind is quiet and clear, you can sense the subtleties of the insights you have. Sometimes, an insight will be overwhelmingly powerful, and it asserts itself even if you do nothing to bid it forward, but you are actually perceiving and understanding things all the time. When your mind is still, you allow this magic to work. The more you do it, the easier it will be to sense the whispers in your mind, develop them and understand their meanings."

Severus mulled this over, swirling the small amount of whiskey still in the bottom of his glass.

Madam Bunswil knew he was conflicted, so she went on. "This is not fluff or nonsense, I can assure you. It's very real magic. Most with it never get past meaningless parlor tricks because they cannot draw upon it at will, or they never learn how to find the more subtle nuances that are disclosed. But someone who can control their mind and create the opportunity for this to develop can find remarkable things. You might even find new paths for this magic, Lord Snape, given your existing skills and your remarkable power. Perhaps my story is just the beginning of yours."

Severus was brought up by her comments, speaking as they did to the very thought nagging him. Where was this going to take him?

"I found that a meditation practice helped me, years ago, to enhance my gift," she volunteered, watching him closely. "Of course, I have no experience with Occlumency. You begin at a place that I have still not reached."

She hesitated, realizing that she was still not speaking to the issue central in his mind. "Nothing requires that you do anything with this at all, actually. Ignoring this magic entirely is an option that you have. Likely, then only the truly powerful insights will work their way through to your conscious mind. At the very least, you now know that you can listen to the insight, as it is a valid harbinger."

She could see that he was still struggling. She realized with a start that he'd already had an insight or vision, probably a very powerful one. While she'd long ago forgotten her first brush with this sort of magic, she imagined it might be unsettling, especially for someone this much older than she had been, and with very strong magic as it was, and from a wholly different culture. So, she went on.

"This is an entirely personal matter, you realize. No one else knows what is in your magic – I have honed a skill that appears to be exceedingly rare, one I've never encountered in another. And no one else has to know that you have this particular gift. The path I followed was the right one for me, but this can be something that you hold very close, if you wish."

She saw that she had told him what he needed to hear. Severus' demeanor changed right before her eyes, as he relaxed.

Madam Bunswil herself leaned back in her chair and took a tiny sip of her drink as she took in her surroundings. Magic told her much about a person, but she learned at least as much from the things with which a wizard surrounded himself.

Severus watched his guest peering about his parlor with undisguised interest, and it was evidence of his own relief that he saw her attention not as nosy prying, but as clear appreciation for the few trinkets and items on display. "Madam, I appreciate your visit today," he began, a bit less awkward than before. "You have put my mind at ease. I had promised my bondmate and Miss Granger that I would tell them of your conclusion about my having added magic, but I will keep the remainder of our conversation private, at least for now. I trust I can rely on your discretion?"

"Of course, young man!" she enthused. "When Miss Granger's owl arrived inviting me back to meet with you, I was very excited myself to learn that someone was just beginning on the journey on which I have been these many years. At this point, you are just becoming acquainted with this new element of your magic, and I hope I gave you a few pointers in that direction. As time passes, I invite you to owl me, please, with any questions about what you experience. This is most exciting, and I am at your service to help you on your way."

"There is, of course, the matter of the fee for your services," Severus continued, not entirely sure what this would cost, but aware that he had requested a professional consultation for which he assumed a fee was due.

She waved the thought away with her hand, jewels sparkling in the firelight as she did so. "I will not hear of it, Lord Snape! This is not a consultation, it is a visit between two individuals with a most remarkable shared . . . interest, shall we say? It was my privilege to meet you, and start you on what I know will be a most remarkable journey."

Severus had caught the reference to Miss Granger's owl. Hadn't she mentioned Harry's involvement? He knew Harry was probably bursting to meet her, and it occurred to him that Madam Bunswil might be just as interested in meeting Harry.

"Madam Bunswil, may I invite you to stay at Hogwarts for supper, as it's growing late? The meal will be served in the Great Hall, in half an hour or so. In the meantime, I know that my bondmate would be most interested in meeting you. I believe he is studying and imagine he would be most pleased for an excuse to break early."

She positively beamed that the offer. "Thank you, and of course, I would be thrilled to meet the young King. I gathered that Miss Granger felt he would be the one to add the magic that was loosed at the death of the attacker?" she replied.

Severus nodded at Dobby, standing watchfully near the fireplace, presumably invisible to his guest, who popped off as soon as Madam Bunswil accepted the invitation. He then addressed his guest's question. "I believe that he and Miss Granger were of that opinion, yes. Apparently, after several of his friends spent some time watching him and finding nothing of what you told them to look for, it occurred to Harry that I'd exhibited something that fit exactly what you said to look for."

She'd already realized as much, and nodded as she struggled a bit to her feet. "Lord Snape, would you mind terribly if I took a closer look at that picture over there?" she asked, gesturing to the photo taken at the Weasley baby's christening. Severus gallantly brought it over to her.

She had a broad smile on her wrinkled face, and her eyes gleamed as she studied the picture. Remarkable, quite remarkable. She could see the emotion between the two men holding the infant, but there was something else at play here, involving their magic. She could not put her finger on it, but then it was rare for her to get a detailed reading about magic from just a photograph. Lord Snape's magic was an amazing surprise in its own right, and she expected she'd understand more when Lord Potter arrived.

She handed the photograph back to her host with the neutral remark that it was a lovely photo.

Not a few moments later, the door opened and Harry hurried in, still flushed from the obvious run at which he'd come from Gryffindor tower. Severus was just about to present Harry to his guest when he realized she was no longer standing beside him. Harry saw her crumble to the ground first and was able to use wandless magic to arrest her fall before she touched the floor. Severus did a double-take when he realized what had occurred, and quickly helped Harry direct their now-unconscious guest to the sofa. She revived before they had the chance to summon Madam Pomfrey.

"Oh, my apologies! Oh, my, this has never happened to me before," she fluttered, as she allowed Severus to help her into a sitting position.

"Perhaps we ought to summon the school's mediwitch," Severus suggested, as Harry was already moving toward the fireplace.

"Absolutely not, Lord Snape! Totally unnecessary! I had opened my magic for our conversation, and that seems to have left me in a particularly vulnerable, unprotected state when Lord Potter arrived. The strength of his magic momentarily overwhelmed me, that is all," she replied crisply, her voice regaining its power.

Harry summoned a glass of water and offered it to her, as he sat beside her on the sofa. "Are you sure, Madam Bunswill? I'm sure Madam Pomfrey would be happy to step through, to be sure you are alright."

"Such a lovely young man you are, Lord Potter!" she gushed, patting his hand. "To be concerned like this for an old woman! No, my dear, I am quite fine. Your magic just overwhelmed me, really. The strength, of course, ancient strength, plus something else. Quite remarkable! I've never seen anything like this. And there is a most unusual, most unusual indeed, connection between you and your bondmate." She settled back against the sofa cushions and took a sip of her water, as she looked between the two. "Two most remarkable young men, you are."

Harry studied Madam Bunswil's face for a second to assure himself that she was alright, and then looked away to Severus. "So, Severus, any conclusions about you?" he asked.

Severus nodded. "It appears that you and your friend were correct. Madam Bunswil confirmed that I have magic that is not from my familial inheritance."

Harry smiled fondly at the overly complicated answer. 'Yes' or 'you were right' would have sufficed.

"I am not divulging the details of the magic at this time. It appears that Miss Granger's theory is quite correct, but my case will not serve as her proof. You may confirm to her that she is right, but I will share no more at this time," Severus continued.

Harry nodded with a tinge of resignation. "We figured as much. She will understand. Knowing that it's really just a matter of time until she is able to get the final proof will hold her. Can we be confident that your insights are to be trusted?" Harry's main concern was not what Hermione could be told, but whether Severus' strange conviction about the three battles and Harry's role in just the last could be relied upon.

Severus just nodded in reply, and Harry took his cue, and said no more about that.

Madam Bunswil was inwardly pleased that her realization that something had, indeed, already broken through from this magic to Lord Snape's conscious mind. What it might be did not particularly concern her. She gingerly moved forward to stand, and was helped to her feet by the two younger men, whose gallantry was rewarded by a beaming smile. "Oh, such lovely young men! Thank you for your assistance. Now, Lord Snape, you mentioned dinner?"

X X X X X X X X X X

The helicopter ride that Vernon took from a small local airstrip up to Sir Harold's estate was the first of his life, and it would not particularly bother him if it was the last. He needed two seat belt extenders to get buckled into the contraption for the ride. At first he found the entire process very uncomfortable and confining, but when the machine took to the air and started bucking and tossing, the only thing that kept the horror of the flight at bay was the pain he felt being pushed against the restraints.

Charles Frost turned green from the experience. What Vernon and their host did not know, of course, was that it was taking all of Cornelius Fudge's self control to not apparate his way out of this absurd contraption.

Reggie Mason was thrilled to have been included on the trip, and had much more experience flying in helicopters. A number of the estates he represented were rather remote from Surrey and several of his clients had private airplanes and helicopters. He found Sir Harold's helicpoter quite luxurious based on what he'd experienced in more utilitarian transports.

Sir Harold himself was totally at ease; he had a pilot's license for small airplanes and was starting to work at qualifying for a license for this kind of aircraft. He noticed that his guests were not all comfortable, so refrained from offering any beverages or nibbles until after they were at his estate.

The men were all assigned to guest bedrooms in the manor house, and given a couple of hours to unpack and rest, or recover from the experience of the flight, before joining Sir Harold and the Brigadier for drinks in the library. Vernon needed to sit for a few minutes for his stomach to settle, but then he was driven by curiosity to get up and waddle around his room. He'd never stayed in a place that absolutely reeked of old money like this. He even studied an oil painting hung over the desk, craning his neck to verify that there were brush marks on the surface. He made his way slowly around the room, carefully checking all of the marvelous (and clearly expensive) accoutrements scattered about. He so wished he'd thought to bring a camera – Petunia and Marge would be so impressed!

At the appointed time, he joined the others in the library, another space crammed with impressive antiques and obviously rare and expensive accessories. Even the glass in which his aperitif was offered by a liveried butler glittered in the firelight. Vernon was terribly torn between a desire to present an image of someone quite used to these kinds of surroundings, and to sneak peeks and inspect everything. Reggie seemed to be in a similar situation, trying mightily to appear worldly while surreptitiously trying to take everything in.

As the two chatted, while appearing to casually inspect some antique maps framed on one wall, Vernon caught sight of Charles Frost, the last of the group to arrive. Reinforcing Vernon's perception of Charles as a man of means, he observed that the older man seemed almost oblivious to their surroundings, accepting his drink and enjoying it as he took a seat in a leather club chair and studied the fire in the enormous fireplace.

The small talk persisted for a while, as Sir Harold and the Brigadier circulated among the guests, until dinner was announced.

Dinner was served in a small room just off the library, on a round table set with antique plates and very heavy silver. The table, draped with crisply-pressed linen, very comfortably accommodated the small party. Vernon waddled in quickly, and was pleased to find himself seated next to their host. He'd be regaling friends, family, and even casual acquaintances, with reminiscences of this private dinner seated next to Sir Harold Beckwith for months, he was sure.

Sir Harold lifted his wine glass. "Gentlemen! A toast! To our efforts to wipe the scourge of magic from our land!" All responded with a "Here! Here!" and sipped at their glasses.

The Brigadier spoke next. "Gents, we've gotten some sobering news from London this evenin'. The attacks by the magical people have stepped up, greatly, over the last week, as I'm sure everyone here knows. But late this afternoon, well," the military man went on, clearly struggling to maintain his composure, "I've never seen the likes. Seven airplanes crashed at Heathrow – just came down out of the sky. Enormous damage, and loss of life. And no fewer than five massive explosions throughout London. At first, it was thought they've targeted the underground, but reports are still coming in. It might have been just a coincidence that a few underground stations were hit, as they were near power stations."

Everyone at the table looked very sober and upset at the news. Vernon spoke first – his jowly face now a deep pink, and getting redder. "Damn them, damn all the freaks. The mission we are planning is more important than ever now, and we can't fail."

The meal that followed was not as celebratory as it otherwise would have been, as each attendee processed the ever-higher stakes in their war against magic.

The next morning, at an hour much earlier than Vernon felt was strictly necessary, the men spilled out of the manor and into a small fleet of Range Rovers, for the drive down to the camp. They joined the men up for training for breakfast, and then Vernon, Reggie and Sir Harold watched some of the training. Vernon was particularly amazed at the trebuchet, while Reggie and Sir Harold seemed quite taken with the longbows, even to the point at joining in with the younger men training to try their hands.

Charles and the Brigadier set off in one of the Range Rovers for the drive the magic castle, so the Brigadier could begin the process of planning the assault. At Cornelius' instruction, they left the vehicle behind some trees, and walked the rest of the way. Cornelius wanted to be sure that they had a good view of Hogwarts as well as Hogsmeade, so the Brigadier would have a clear understanding of the geography of the area.

Once Cornelius pointed out where Hogwarts stood, the vague stone outcropping came into clear view for his companion. "Amazing, Frost, just amazing. Once you told me where it was, I saw it clearly. Clever, very clever. And just that low stone fence protects it?" the Brigadier wanted to know.

"No, that's the problem," Cornelius grumbled. "They have some kind of magic, I think they call it 'wards,' that protects the castle and the grounds. We can't penetrate it. We've also learned that our regular weapons can be disabled by magic – they can do something to the ammunition. The old-time weapons don't use the same ammunition, so those are harder for them to stop. No, what we need to do, Brigadier, is draw them out and away from the castle, into a fight. The castle itself is not the objective, it's the people in the castle."

Cornelius watched curiously as the Brigadier lifted some odd-looking contraption to his face and peered through it toward Hogwarts. "I don't see that many of them around the castle," he observed as he looked. "Just a few tents, it seems to me."

Cornelius assumed that the contraption helped him see more clearly. "Most of them are probably inside, now that it's getting cold. It's a pretty big place. But we have to make the ones inside want to come out, that's the trick."

The Brigadier gave him a funny look. "We have to get them out of a magic castle where they are completely protected? And how do we propose to do that?"

Cornelius had given this a great deal of thought. He pointed off to the right. "There – that's Hogsmeade, it's one of their towns. I found it in the records of the Post, so it's a real town, but it's all magic people that live in it. We attack there."

The Brigadier frowned; attacking civilian targets was not acceptable to him. However, he followed the direction Charles was pointing, and looked through his field glasses. "Mmmm. I do see people, for sure." He zoomed in closer. "Not dressed like normal folk, are they? Don't see no cars. Odd looking place."

"Odd, indeed. All magic, actually. And given that we can see it clearly, that town is not nearly as protected as the castle and its inhabitants. If we attack their kind, I'm confident that the ones in the castle, the ones who are leading this scourge, will come to their defense. And then, we'll have the advantage of our troops and the old weapons, and be able to engage them in a battle where their magic won't be an advantage."

A small smile crept onto the Brigadier's weathered face, as he carefully scanned the small community perched near a railway station. Those were not civilians, those were magical people, for sure – the enemy. He spent a bit of time making notes on a map he'd unfolded, identifying landmarks and places that afforded some protections. Attacking that magic town was a very do-able exercise, and it did make sense that the ones in the castle would defend the town. He wasn't sure why, but he found himself agreeing with Frost about the difficulty of attacking the castle, even as it stood there looking totally undefended. He shrugged that off, and focused on the town.

An hour later, he and Frost walked back to the Range Rover and returned to Sir Harold's estate.

X X X X X X X X X X

Petunia had taken advantage of her husband's trip to have a quiet afternoon and evening. She enjoyed two new magazines that had recently arrived, and took the time to try out a new recipe for poached salmon; it looked delicious but was far too light dinner fare for Vernon. She had her dinner all prepared, with a nice salad, and sat down to eat it in the dining room, rather than the kitchen. It felt odd, to be eating a rather fancy meal all by herself, but she shook that off. She deserved this.

As she finished her coffee, very pleased with her meal, she realized with a start that a big barn owl was perched on one of the chairs on the porch, peering in at her. She eyed it warily, and it watched her back. She gestured for it to "shoo" but it just blinked back at her. She stayed seated, but looked more closely at its feet, and sure enough, there was a large envelope.

Petunia remembered that owls tended to want food – the one that had gotten into her kitchen had eaten her sandwich. Keeping her eyes on the owl, she carefully stood and sidled out of the dining room into the kitchen, taking her plate with her. She found a paper plate in the cupboard and scraped the leavings from her dish onto it, adding a small portion of left-over salmon as well. She opened the door from the kitchen and pushed the paper plate out into view on the slate floor, closing the door quickly behind her. She hurried back to the sliding doors off the dining room, and was relieved to see the envelope sitting on the chair while the owl had gone to inspect the food she'd just put out the other door. She grabbed the envelope, and closed the door as fast as she could.

She went into the lounge with the letter, her heart still pounding from the fright of seeing the big owl. She opened it carefully, and was relieved that it was a note from Amaranth. How odd, though – it began with rather frantic expressions of concern for her safety – what could that be about? Petunia had kept the telly off all afternoon, enjoying the quiet for a while, and then playing some music on the old record-player to keep her company while she cooked and ate. Now a bit concerned, she turned on the television set.

There was a news broadcast that apparently preempted regular programming, and all manner of awful things had been happening this afternoon. Airplanes had crashed and there were a number of explosions across London. She watched in fascinated horror for several moments, before glancing down in her lap at the note that had alerted her to all this. How could Amaranth have known about the events so quickly, and then gotten a note to her so fast?

Petunia had a moment of panic when she wondered if Vernon was alright, given all this madness. The reports were clear that the events were all within London, and Vernon had left from Surry to fly up to Sir Harold's estate in Scotland, so he was not impacted by these attacks. It finally occurred to Petunia to reassure herself that this mayhem was restricted to London and not going on just outside her door. A quick peek out the front window suggested that everything was normal. There were a few cars driving up the street, and it looked like many of the neighbors were in their front lounges watching television, as well.

She did not encounter her neighbors until the following morning, as she returned from church.

Clarice saw her car drive past, and she donned her coat and hurried down the road to intercept Petunia before she would get inside. "Morning, Petunia!" she called, cutting across the lawn.

"Oh, hello, Clarice. Nice morning, isn't it?" Petunia answered. "We've been due for a bit of sunshine for a while now. Nasty business in the world, though."

Clarice shook her head. "I was just horrified when Jeremy called me to come see what was on the telly last night. Magic, they say?" She looked at her neighbor with a hint of accusation evident on her face. Hadn't the neighborhood learned last summer that the Dursleys had harbored a wizard in their own home? Granted, the boy was being touted as the wizard king, and appearing in all those announcements with the Royals, so he was a bit of a celebrity at the time, but was he the one behind all this? That put matters in a different perspective.

Petunia caught the look on her neighbor's face, and felt anger bloom. "Unfortunately, Vernon wasn't here yesterday afternoon," she said, rather certain that Clarice would have been among those peering out the window as he was collected in the Rolls Royce. "So I didn't even turn on the telly until after dinner. Quite the shock. Vernon is off at Sir Harold Beckwith's estate, so I'm on my own this weekend."

Clarice seemed intent on coming inside, so Petunia graciously offered a cup of tea and directed her guest into the lounge. The largest window in the house was the front window, and it had an unobstructed view of the sky, so the lounge was Petunia's favorite room these days.

Clarice immediately resumed the conversation, with "Sir Harold Beckwith?"

Petunia might not like Clarice all that much, but she was a neighbor, and quite the gossip. As good a way as any to get the story widely-known.

"Well, yes. You know, in the wake of the nonsense last summer, Vernon made the acquaintance of a number of gentlemen who were not in agreement with the placating attitude toward magic. He'd never put much store in magic, and became quite a catalyst for the anti-magic movement," she boasted. "He's been speaking all over, at community gatherings, for months now, he along with some local men. Sir Harold was of the same opinion and began to join in with them. He invited several of the leaders up to his estate in Scotland this weekend for a meeting; I'm guessing you saw Vernon being picked up yesterday afternoon? Sir Harold flew them all up to Scotland, and I expect they'll be back later this afternoon."

Those were Petunia's key points – Vernon's leadership, his acquaintance with Sir Harold, and the fact that Sir Harold sent a Rolls Royce saloon to collect him and then flew him up to Scotland. That would make the gossips green with envy, she was sure.

And Clarice's reaction was just what she'd wanted. Fawning and fussing, spending the rest of the time it took to finish her tea trying to wheedle every imaginable detail about Vernon's trip, and relationship with Sir Harold, Clarice was unable to control her excitement. She completely dropped the accusatory stance she'd had earlier about the Dursley's harboring a wizard.

But then, as Petunia was showing Clarice to the front door, the big owl swooped overhead, returning from wherever it went to a tree in the backyard.

"Owls! When did we have owls in these parts, Petunia?" Clarice remarked. "They are all over, it seems. At least, I've seen one near here now several times. Don't think I've seen one up at the other end of the block." She gave Petunia an odd look.

Petunia hated nothing more than being the recipient of odd looks.

"I suspect that there might be a problem with moles in one of the neighbor's yards," Petunia sniffed defensively. "I've noticed some problems with my plants along back fences, so maybe something's digging in the roots. I would imagine that if meals are near to hand, owls are willing to follow them. I might have seen an owl once, maybe twice before around here – hardly an infestation!"

Clarice looked a bit nervously overhead as she waved good-bye on her way back to her own house. Petunia looked nervously and guiltily at the sky herself. She went back into her kitchen to find a notecard and pen, so she could send a reply to Amaranth, assuring her of her continued good health and thanking her for her concern. And get rid of that owl, now that neighbors were starting to notice.


	59. Ch 136 The Second Wave

Chapter 136 – The Second Wave

The year moved slowly toward its conclusion, with tensions mounting every day.

The supporters of Lord Voldemort, while not coordinating their efforts, were definitely concentrating them in London. Voldemort remained quite fond of his muggle television, and was given to regaling his minions about events that were reported on the various programs. It had taken them all a while to understand fully what were "false reports" (known to most in the muggle world as "regular programming" or "the movie of the week") and what were actual news programs, but everyone noticed that their Lord got excited and pleased when any muggle calamity, real or imagined, was presented on his television. When one of their own attacks in London made the evening news, it dawned on the more clever among them that events in London tended to be on the television faster. Each of the Death Eaters wanted their moment of praise and attention, so many focused their attention on London, bettering their chances of making the news and being able to claim responsibility for an event that captured their Lord's eye.

The Death Eater attention was not focused exclusively on London, however. Grudges fuelled some attacks, places were simply closer to home, sites were chosen for other symbolic reasons, and a few in the group were just too dim to realize that news coverage was more likely in London. Even some Death Eater attacks on purely magical targets were so vicious and messy that they were obvious to muggles.

As a consequence, no place in England felt completely safe from the violence. People were on edge, everywhere.

Those who were already immersed in the anti-magic movement were suddenly leaders of a much larger movement. The once-radical off-shoot powered by Sir Harold Beckwith was becoming more mainstream by the moment. A veritable army of weekend soldiers formed up around the few hundred men who'd actually been to Sir Harold's estate for training, enthusiastically learning how the old-time weapons worked.

Vernon Dursley was thrilled to find himself suddenly at the forefront of a movement that was taking off. Why, he'd even been interviewed on the telly! He went on about the scourge of magic and the efforts of the men "on his team" to take action to deal with this menace. He basked in his new-found celebrity, which even extended to a higher profile in Grunnings. Not only was he a key contributor to the biggest year the firm had ever known, he was now getting quoted in the newspapers and interviewed on the television. Even the Chairman had noticed!

Petunia had been beside herself with pride watching her Vernon on television. The excited calls from friends and neighbors that followed had been very gratifying. Dudley even began to boast about his Dad at Smeltings, making sure all his classmates realized his father was the guy on the telly.

Tensions were running high at the Ministry of Magic, where Minister Bones had her hands full. She had barely enough staff to protect and investigate attacks on her magical constituents, yet there was constant pressure from the muggle Prime Minister's office for assistance in addressing every calamity in the muggle world, including quite a few that had no connection to magic at all.

The attacks were being attributed in general terms to all "magical people" by more and more muggles every day, despite the efforts of the muggle royals and Harry Potter to persuade the muggle populace that these attacks were the result of a small group of evil wizards and witches. The distrust of magic grew daily.

Critics of the new openness with muggles took advantage of every reported anti-magic rally or attack on someone believed to have magic to call for a retreat back to the old secrecy.

Hogwarts was not insulated from the growing sense of doom, either. Classes continued as always, and the students were growing more excited for the coming holidays, also as always. But most of them would spend those holidays at Hogwarts this year, joined by family. A few families were taking advantage of the apparent focus of the Death Eaters on England to plan holiday trips abroad. The Daily Prophet brought the news of attacks and mayhem in the world outside Hogwarts, as well, and more students than ever were now taking subscriptions. Once, the outside world felt very far away to most students, but the events of the fall had shown that Hogwarts was not so isolated any longer.

Harry continued to have daily visits from the ravens, who kept to his requested schedule and appeared every day just before lunch. Their news was fairly repetitive, thankfully now focused on a particular planned attack and no longer on the mayhem going on in general in and around London these days. Harry was alarmed nonetheless to see that the numbers of men (and more than a few women) training and planning this assault were getting significantly larger as the days passed.

The ravens had appeared before lunch, as usual, one week before Christmas, but then they came back that evening. Harry was in the Gryffindor common room chatting with Neville about the upcoming visit from Nitrocris when the common room dissolved, and he felt that he was standing in the middle of a large field surrounded by the men he'd seen learning about the old weapons, his ravens perched on his shoulders and whispering in his ears. He stared as the men positioned trebuchets and catapults in a field, and assembled themselves in ranks, apparently preparing to attack. But where was he?

Neville immediately realized that Harry was focused on something other than Neville's plans for a romantic holiday. He tried to get Hermione's attention, figuring that she usually knew what to do when, well, whatever this was. Hermione joined her friends in response to Neville's frantic waving, followed shortly by Ron, all three confused about Harry's odd behavior.

They were only more confused when Harry began to narrate his vision, as he spoke aloud to the ravens. "OK, I see the men and the weapons, but where are we?" he whispered. "Hogwarts? But I don't see Hogwarts. That a village up ahead, where the weapons are all pointed, not at a castle." Harry twisted his head, appearing to look behind him to the right, but not really at the tapestry against the wall he now faced. "There's Hogwarts – the other way. So why are the men and the weapons all facing that way? What's over there?" A look of horror came over his face, and he slumped back in his chair.

The next thing he knew, Neville was gently shaking his shoulder, and Ron had secured a small flask of firewater from Seamus that he was trying to get Harry to sip. Hermione had taken a seat next to Harry and was repeating "Harry?" over and over.

"Whoa, sorry about that," Harry said when he realized what had happened, as he struggled to sit up straight. "The ravens got hold of me, that's all. Really, I'm fine." He pushed the firewater away, as he nodded his thanks at Ron. "I need to see Severus."

Hermione continued to look very concerned. "What happened to you, Harry? You nearly fainted."

"I'm good, Mione. Really, no problem. I just need to speak to Severus, right away. This might be important." Harry tried hard to keep his voice as normal as possible, as he ran his hands rather frantically through his hair.

She looked at Ron and Neville. "If Harry does need to get to the dungeons, would you two go with him? Make sure he's OK." Looking at Harry, she added, "If it happens again, they'll make sure you make it to your rooms."

Harry certainly didn't expect yet another visit from the ravens. He had to admit, though, he hadn't expected this one either, so Hermione's precaution probably made sense. He stood slowly, to be sure he really was as fine as he was telling them, and then set off with his two friends for the walk down to the dungeons.

Severus was not in the rooms when Harry got there, so he said good evening to Ron and Neville and sat in front of the fire, to jot down some notes of what he'd just seen as he waited for his bondmate to return.

Hogsmeade – that was the target, and there was a much greater sense of urgency now. But why Hogsmeade? That was just a town, a village, nothing strategic or military about it. Some shops, and regular people. He had to admit, as he thought: this group had tried to attack Hogwarts not that long ago and for Merlin's sake, that is a school, so why should he be surprised that the new target is a village? But it still made no sense to him.

He carefully replayed the vision in his mind several times, seeking to extract every detail he'd been shown, and every piece of information conveyed by the ravens. It wasn't all that much. It looked like the muggle army, or whatever that mob was, had positioned itself in the fields just outside the stone fence that bordered the school grounds, along the road between the Hogsmeade train station and the school. It was clearly focused on the village and not the school. At least, all the trebuchets were pointed in that direction, as were all the other weapons being carried onto what had to be the field of battle. He realized with a start, and a blossoming sense of relief, that there were no shots being fired, or arrows unloosed, or trebuchets actually launching their stones. This was still preparation, not yet a battle. At least, that's what he hoped it meant.

Harry was just about to head up to Professor Dumbledore's office to speak to him without Severus, when Severus swept in, having just completed his early evening patrol of the school.

"You're back early tonight, Harry. Is there a problem?" he commented, realizing as he hung up his cloak that he wasn't alone.

"There might be, Severus. The ravens came, just a while ago. While I was in the Gryffindor common room. Here, I made notes."

Severus looked up sharply at the tension clear in Harry's voice. Harry handed over the parchment he'd been writing on, and sat back on the couch.

Severus' eyebrows arched when he realized that Harry'd been shown what he interpreted as an attack on Hogsmeade.

"Are you sure about his?" he asked, still watching Harry carefully for any sign of distress.

Harry looked at him miserably. "I think I am very sure. At first, I didn't recognize where I was. I was looking at all the men – and Severus, there were so many men and even women in the mob, so many more than before – and wasn't sure about what town that was up ahead. It could have been anywhere. The ravens told me it was near Hogwarts, so I looked and realized the school was behind me to the right. The target was Hogsmeade. Why would that be?"

Severus didn't have an answer to that. "Let's tell Albus. Perhaps he has some thoughts."

The two were relieved to find the Headmaster in his office. Waving away the offered lemon drops, Severus handed over the parchment. "Harry had an off-cycle visit from the ravens this evening, and I think you need to be aware of this."

The old man settled back behind his desk as the two younger men took chairs opposite it. He listened soberly to the report.

"Hogsmeade? You are sure?" he confirmed.

"Yes, sir. Very sure. The ravens said this was near Hogwarts, and the school was behind me to the right. I saw it. The soldiers were definitely all focused away from Hogwarts," Harry answered.

Albus wrinkled his forehead in thought. "The latest reports from the Ministry have indicated a significant increase in interest in the anti-magic movement. That dovetails with your impression that this was a much bigger crowd than you've seen before. Interesting that you saw no weapons actually being used. The last time, you saw things being directed against the castle, as I recall. Did you get a sense of urgency from the ravens?" he asked.

"I realized that bit later, sir. The weapons seemed to be loaded – there were definitely stones in the trebuchets, and I saw arrows and maces, but I did not see anything actually being released. I thought it over a few times, and am very sure of that."

Harry looked from Albus to Severus and back to Albus, and finally asked, "Why on earth are they planning to attack Hogsmeade?"

Albus looked thoughtfully at one of the do-dads on his desk. "I don't imagine that they really remember how ineffective the first attack was on Hogwarts, but maybe one or two of those involved do know that. We have wards that will repel whatever they try to use to attack. Hogsmeade is just a village, and there would be no wards there. So, they could attack. There is still the question of why, though."

Severus had an idea. "Perhaps the objective is still Hogwarts, or at least the people in Hogwarts. I think we can assume that Fudge is still involved here somehow. He'd divert their focus over to the village, knowing that this muggle army could cause damage there. It would look like a productive strike. Of course, there's nothing to be gained for anyone even if they level Hogsmeade, so that doesn't alone make much sense. But is it not likely that at least some inhabitants of the castle would feel compelled to leave the safety and security of the castle to go to defend the citizens of the nearby town?"

Severus was thinking to himself that he'd devoted a good deal of energy to worrying that one particular castle inhabitant would be difficult to restrain if that occurred.

Albus looked at Severus thoughtfully, and a slow smile bloomed on his ancient face. "Well done, Severus. I suspect you have answered our question. This is an effort to draw us out from behind the wards of Hogwarts. Well done, indeed. I must ask you to excuse me, as I want to bring this to the Ministry's attention immediately. We can begin planning to counter this attack."

Harry looked concerned. "But there are passages between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade – the one from the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack, and there's one that comes up in the cellar at Honeydukes, probably others. If the muggles overrun Hogsmeade, they might be able to find the ways to get into the castle!"

Albus smiled a knowing grin. "Ah, there are indeed a number of passages between the two places, the ones you mentioned and quite a few others, besides. I suspect we know more about that than the muggles, and the wizards working with them. That's something that will be to our advantage. Now, if you will excuse me?"

As the two headed down the revolving staircase, Severus couldn't help but ask, "Honeydukes?"

Harry hated keeping secrets, but the Marauder's Map was not something he wanted to explain to Severus, especially the way it had insulted Severus when he'd tried to confiscate it from him in third year. However, he could share part of that story.

"The Weasley twins told me about the passage; it's right behind the one-eyed witch statue on the third floor, between the Entrance Hall and Gryffindor Tower." Harry added a bit sheepishly, "Third year, when I didn't have a permission slip to go to Hogsmeade."

Severus shook his head, a small smile playing over his face. He'd always suspected that there were secret passages, likely known to Filch, who managed to get around the castle faster than his plodding pace should allow, and probably Albus, just because he seemed to know pretty much everything.

Somehow, it seemed to be expected that the Weasley twins would know about them, too.

X X X X X X X X X X

Christmas fell on a Saturday this year, and the week before Christmas was marred with the aftermath of the vicious attacks attributed to magical people. The crashes as the airport had closed it for several days. While it opened just days before the holidays, the backlog of travelers was enormous, even though many rethought their plans to travel at all and were canceling their flights.

Businesses were feeling pressure from all directions. Many businesses in London struggled to stay open, as workers were having great difficulty getting to their jobs, with local transportation disrupted by power outages and damage to the underground. Stores, especially in London and other big cities in England, were eerily empty, as many people were afraid to venture out to anywhere that might be crowded.

Things in Grunnings' office in Surrey were just fine, however. Friday afternoon, Vernon collected the biggest Christmas bonus ever distributed at the firm. He'd once thought to use some of this windfall to buy his family extravagant presents, but there wasn't time for a proper shopping trip between his getting the check and when the banks and stores began to close. Plus, Marge was joining him, Petunia and Dudley that afternoon to spend the holiday with them, and he wasn't so keen on being extravagant with his sister. No, better to keep this quiet. He pocketed his check and joined with the other Grunnings employees in a celebratory Christmas toast in the conference room before bidding all a Happy Christmas and heading home. He could get Petunia something special next week, and perhaps they could make plans to buy that vacation home on Majorca – a much larger cottage than they'd once hoped to buy!

Vernon would be with his family this weekend, but Sir Harold was bringing him, Charles Frost and Reggie Mason back to his estate on Monday. The Movement (as Vernon now thought of it) had grown exponentially over the last couple of weeks, in the wake of all the attacks on the normal world by the magical freaks. Sir Harold had been advocating that they move on the magic castle right after Christmas. The recent spate of attacks had strengthened his resolve to act quickly.

Even Charles was in agreement now. Inexplicably (although Vernon was confident it was because of magic), Sir Harold and the others who had been at the estate still had absolutely no memory of their last attack on the blasted school, and how ineffective it had been. But Charles was clever. He artfully deflected attention away from the castle with its mysterious protections. He explained it all to him and Reggie. He told them what he'd told the Brigadier, and that they were now focusing their attention on attacking the magical town right next to the castle. The defenders of the castle would be lured out of its protections to defend their fellow freaks. Made excellent sense to Vernon!

When classes ended at Hogwarts that same Friday, there was a flurry of activity, mostly involving departures and arrivals via portkeys. The Ministry had relaxed some of the restrictions on portkeys because no one wanted children to be riding for hours, out in the open, on the Hogwarts Express. Students departing for the holidays were taking portkeys either to their homes or to their families' holiday destinations, and a number of family members of students staying for the holidays were arriving to join them in the safety of the castle. To avoid accidental splinching, Albus had arranged for arrivals to take place on the front lawn of the castle while those leaving Hogwarts departed from the Great Hall.

By early evening, everyone seemed to have made it to wherever they wanted to be.

To Severus' great annoyance, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were among those who now apparently wanted to be at Hogwarts. Lucius told him that they had been looking forward to a nice relaxing vacation in the Seychelles, but at the last minute, Narcissa announced that she was not feeling well enough to travel that distance – stomach trouble of some sort. Narcissa proposed that they go to Hogwarts to see Draco for Christmas, and then go on to their apartment in Paris, for the New Year festivities. The only consolation, from Severus' perspective, was that Lucius had insisted that he and Narcissa be seated at the Head Table, and not with their son. At least he did not have to worry about his old friend having any unsupervised contact with Harry over dinner.

Down at the Gryffindor table, Harry was wedged in between the entire Weasley family (Molly and Arthur among them, including Draco, sitting with Charlie) and the Granger family. He looked up at the Head Table, and nearly laughed to see the look on Severus' face. Clearly, the man was not in the mood to hear whatever Mr. Malfoy was talking about.

At the Head Table, Severus was indeed getting tired of Lucius' boastful patter. It took a while, but it finally occurred to Lucius to inquire about something his son had told him, about an odd old lady who had been a guest at the Head Table and seated with Severus not that long ago.

"Draco sent an owl a while back, mentioned that you had escorted an old woman to dinner one evening. He didn't recognize her," Lucius drawled, more inviting comment rather than asking a question.

For his part, Severus was surprised that Draco had thought to mention it without asking anyone who she was. Certainly, Harry and Miss Granger knew and would have told him her name, at least.

"An old friend of yours, actually, Lucius," Severus purred, suddenly finding himself more interested in the conversation. "Madam Bunswil. Miss Granger had met with her once, under the Headmaster's supervision. When she wished to invite Madam back a further time, I participated. It was near dinner, so I invited her to stay. Quite an interesting woman." While that explanation left out most of the story, it wasn't strictly a lie.

Lucius visibly swallowed when he heard the name. "She's been here? And you invited her to join you here? For dinner?"

Severus was amused, if puzzled, by his old friend's odd reaction. "Of course. Why on earth would I not extend the courtesy of a meal, under the circumstances?"

"Isn't her appearance a bit, um, um, severe?" Lucius finally stuttered.

"Severe? A little old lady wrapped in a brocade shawl? Bohemian, perhaps, but that fraud Trelawney wears shawls, on those rare times we have to put up with her presence. Maybe a bit more jewelry than we normally see among the staff, alright, quite a bit more," Severus conceded, "but what on earth do you mean?"

Lucius was so unnerved by the thought that Madam Bunswil had been escorted to dinner in the Great Hall that he actually answered. "I always thought the woman had the most horrible eyes – terrifying, actually."

Severus just shook his head. Likely magic at work, and how amusing that Lucius didn't realize it. There were spells that could make you appear frightening to everyone, or just certain people. They were rather simple spells, really.

Before Severus could actually reply to Lucius, though, Narcissa abruptly stood and excused herself from the table, her meal barely touched. Lucius went to accompany her, but was waved off by Madam Pomfrey. "Upset stomach. I'll tend to her, Mr. Malfoy. You can stop by the Infirmary later."

Lucius dropped the subject of Madam Bunswil at that point, commenting first that poor Narcissa had been having a difficult time with her digestion lately, and then moving on to his favored subject, himself. Severus' look of boredom returned.

Christmas morning, Severus paced nervously in the sitting room, waiting for Harry to finish dressing. His present for his bondmate was sitting in his library, under an obscuration charm, and he was starting to experience second thoughts. The idea for the gift had come to him as he was meeting with the Head Goblin from the Curse Breaking department at Gringotts – he would get Harry his own sword for Christmas this year. He was quite certain that this was a gift Harry would find useful, but he had his reservations about Harry's enthusiasm for the gift.

He knew that Gringotts often represented families in the private sale of their valuable heirlooms, and could also assist in the commissioning of premier goblin artisans to create things for their clients – the Snapes had used those services over the years. He mentioned his interest in procuring a suitable sword for his bondmate to the goblin with whom he was meeting, and the Head Goblin from the Magical Artifacts department contacted him the next day.

None of the heirloom swords that Gringotts had been asked to assist in selling were suitable. There was just one far-too-big Long Sword, a few large daggers, and a number of smaller offerings that looked as if a sword had attacked a ladies' jewel box, certainly far too fussy and over-ornamented for Harry's taste. The goblin instead arranged a meeting with the top goblin metalsmith represented by Gringotts so Severus could commission a sword to his specifications.

He had decided upon a Long Sword of finest wizard steel. That seemed a good choice, as that was the style Harry had chosen for himself when they first began dueling. However, he directed that be of modest proportions, more in keeping with Harry's slight build. Severus provided a walnut-sized ruby from the Snape vaults to adorn the pommel, and asked that their combined crest be engraved on the blade just beneath the cross-guard. At the last minute, with a thought to the legendary sword of Godric Gryffindor, he directed that Harry's name be engraved down the blade, as well.

What would really make this uniquely Harry's, he thought, the basilisk skin (remaining from the skin from which he had commissioned the coat he gave Harry for Valentine's Day) that he provided as lining for the cross-guard, and as covering for the scabbard. A sword had many uses, after all. He wanted something that was fully combat-ready if necessary, but also completely appropriate for wear in ceremonial settings.

He harrumphed in annoyance at the time it was taking Harry to dress. The young man wore nothing but common muggle-style clothes, and seldom looked groomed to any extent, yet it took him forever to dress. He poured a cup of coffee, and sat to calm himself as he waited.

In the bedroom, Harry had just finished dressing. He'd arrived back in their rooms rather late last night, and found Severus waiting for him in bed. In his zeal to get out of his clothes and join his bondmate, he apparently had kicked off his trainers rather firmly and one had ended up behind the wardrobe. Harry had found it only after resorting to using his wand and muttering "Accio, trainer!" He was looking nervously at two butterbeer caps, before finally stashing them in the pocket of his jeans and going to join Severus.

Once both were in the same room, they both started to speak at the same time.

Severus held up his hands. "First things first. Happy Christmas, Harry. Would you prefer that we take Christmas breakfast here, or in the Great Hall?"

Harry returned the holiday wishes, and considered for just a brief moment. "Let's eat here."

Severus nodded at one of the house elves, who immediately popped off to bring the meal to his wizards in their room. Harry joined Severus at the table, and waited while the older man poured him a cup of tea.

Harry decided to act, rather than continue to worry about Severus' reaction to his gift. He put his butterbeer caps on the table. "When would you like to go see your present, then? Your sister owled me that everything turned out just as I requested – she was really pleased. She suggested we come up this weekend. I haven't been there yet myself, figured we'd see it together. She said we have to go to her home, and then there's a floo connection from there to our compound. That's the only way in until we set the wards. She has some instructions for us about the wards at the compound, too, left by the goblins."

Severus' eyebrows arched at the news. "My sister is spending the holidays in the Winter Lands?"

"That's what she wrote. I gather that's never occurred before?" Harry ventured.

"Until recently, I had understood that she had not been to the Winter Lands but a handful of times over all the years she's been married. She said she was going to spend more time there, but I had assumed that would be in the summer. Although, maybe the events of late in London have given her pause."

Harry's brow wrinkled. "Doesn't she live in High Hill County?" he asked. He had met her at dinner at Claudius' home there, and had just assumed she lived nearby.

Severus smiled a bit as he thought of his sister. "No, actually. Of course, she never had quite the total break with the family that I did, but she moved away as soon as she was of age. I think she has a home in Mayfair. She wanted to be free of the meddling of her brothers, I suspect. Especially once she decided to marry Alrik Brand."

Harry chuckled softly at that. "He did seem somewhat out of place with them."

"But, to your question of visiting there, I propose we go tomorrow, or even Monday. I would not want to interrupt her holiday celebrations, and I suspect you would be missed if you were not here today." He looked pointedly at a small pile of presents on a table near the door, that Harry still had to have delivered to his friends. "If this is to be our secret, we don't want too many people knowing where we've gone."

As Harry was nearly done with his breakfast, Severus stood. "Let me get you my gift. It's a bit more portable."

Harry's face was alive with excitement and anticipation as he took the large box in bright paper from Severus' hands. Severus's mouth tightened with nervousness as he watched Harry slowly unwrap it. He watched Harry's face intently, knowing that the young man's true reaction would be plain to see, if only for a second, once he saw his gift.

Severus breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Harry's eyes go wide with surprise and pleasure at the stunning sword. Harry almost reverently took the sword in its scabbard out of the box, clearly recognizing the skin of which the scabbard the made.

"Basilisk skin, like my coat!" he exclaimed. In a softer voice, he added, "It's amazing, Severus. Thank you."

Severus took the sword from Harry to carefully slide the sword from the sheath, so Harry could see the crest, matching the one he wore on the engraved disc around his neck, and then his name down the blade. "Fantastic – just like the sword of Gryffindor!" he exclaimed, clearly pleased. "But not so fussy, more my style."

Harry took it carefully from Severus, and felt its weight in his hand. "Perfect – it's light, lighter even than the one I've been using when we duel." He assumed a dueling position and went through a few of the moves and exercises he'd been taught, smiling at the ease with which this sword flowed with his movements.

Severus had stepped back quickly when he saw what Harry was going to do, and watched with a bemused smile as Harry practiced. When Harry finished and looked for the scabbard, he accepted the scabbard and some pointers on how best to protect the blade within it.

"Of course, you can use this to duel," Severus explained, "but wizards do wear swords at formal events. You might not need it frequently, but now you have an impressive sword for those times when it is appropriate."

Harry was glad that Severus suggested that they visit "his gift" later, because Christmas day quickly became a blur of activity for Harry. He visited a bit with Neville and Nitrocris. They were anxiously awaiting the arrival of his grandmother, who was escorting the muggle princes for a short visit. He was pleased to see that some of the attention he usually had to endure was now being directed to the stunning pharaoh, recognizable as such despite having traded her Egyptian garb for a sweater and muggle-style jeans, likely borrowed from Hermione.

Neville and Nitrocris seemed to have a great deal to say to each other, as they were whispering back and forth almost constantly, but they welcomed him when he stopped to chat.

"Harry Potter, how wonderful to see you again," Nitrocris gushed, standing to kiss Harry on both cheeks. "I think of you often. You opened my eyes to my true power, and I've already made great strides restoring magical Egypt to the kind of place it was when my father was alive. I've eradicated almost every awful thing my uncles did."

"Um, well, that's excellent," Harry replied, a bit taken aback that she attributed so much of her own hard work and effort to the bit of encouragement he had given her. "Nice that you could come up here for a visit!"

The other two exchanged a suspiciously meaningful glance at that remark, and Harry wondered briefly what that was all about. Fortunately, Mrs. Longbottom arrived then, and Harry was relieved to be able to excuse himself to escort the muggle princes on a tour of the castle bedecked for Christmas while she visited with her grandson.

"I hadn't realized there would be this much snow up here," the muggle Harry remarked, as the trio wandered among the dozen enormous Christmas trees decorating the Great Hall. "We normally spend the holidays at Sandringham House, in Norfolk, but this year, it was agreed we'd come to Balmoral. More remote and quiet, I suppose."

"We always seem to have snow on Christmas here," magical Harry reported.  
"Some of the snowball fights we've had on Christmas afternoon have been epic affairs – teachers have even joined in, on occasion." Harry shivered just a bit, as he thought back. Was it really just one year ago, that he'd been kidnapped from one of those post-Christmas snowball fights?

The princes stayed for just a brief visit, giving Harry ample time to spend with Sirius and Remus, who joined him in visiting with the Weasley family, celebrating the first Christmas of his godson. Granted the baby was too young to understand what was going on, but there were lots and lots of gifts for him. Harry blushed profusely at his Weasley sweater this year; instead of a snitch or a broomstick, this year's sweater was adorned with little crowns.

The Grangers were part of that celebration, as well as was Hermione, of course. Draco was with Charlie, and thus part of the Weasley Christmas, but he was summoned to his parents' rooms shortly before the Christmas dinner was to begin. He returned a few minutes later, looking quite gobsmacked.

"You will not believe the news I just got from my parents," he said to Charlie when he squeezed onto the couch next to him. Of course, with a statement like that, all other conversations in the area ended abruptly and everyone strained to hear what he had to say.

"My mother is expecting a baby!" Draco looked stunned and perhaps a bit put out by the news.

The large Weasley family saw it differently. Draco was immediately hugged by Mrs. Weasley. "Wonderful news, wonderful news! Children are always such a blessing!" she gushed, ignoring his attempts to pull away. The others sitting with the Weasleys offered hearty congratulations and pats on the back.

When Christmas dinner was announced by the pealing of unseen bells, numerous round tables appeared in the Great Hall, replacing the usual long house tables. For the most part, families sat together, or groups of friends filled a table, and the tables adjusted their size as necessary to accommodate.

Winter Lands warriors, some with family in tow, took over a group of tables nearest the door from which they entered, and those tables became obligingly taller and sturdier. The Weasley table was the largest in the room, as they quickly invited the Grangers, Remus and Sirius to join them. To Lucius' infinite irritation, Molly saw Lucius and Narcissa enter the Great Hall, and had them trapped at her table (albeit with their son) before he could formulate a reason that they needed to sit elsewhere. He was especially put out when he realized that, for once, Harry Potter wasn't with the Weasley family.

Harry had spotted Severus across the room and had excused himself from the Weasley table right off. Severus had visited with Lucius and Narcissa earlier in the day, looking in on them to see that she was well after the episode at dinner the night before, so he was already aware of their news. He had offered to assist Albus with some patrols through the castle, to rein in some of the more exuberant holiday celebrations among the students and children. He'd spent the rest of the morning strolling about, relieved that policing was not as big a burden today as it would normally be, with all the parents at hand.

Harry and Severus were quickly invited to join Professors Dumbledore and McGonnagal at their table. Albus had spotted the Malfoys being seated at the Weasley table, and wisely saw to it that he and Minerva took a table that afforded a direct view of the Malfoys, to keep an eye on things. Harry invited Neville and Nitrocris to join them as well, as they were now on their own after Mrs. Longbottom and the princes had returned to Balmoral for the royal holiday festivities.

It was a surprisingly convivial table, for such an eclectic mix of characters. While Neville and Severus might have been more quiet than the others, there was no shortage of chatter, especially between Nitrocris and the Headmaster, with a few contributions from Harry. And, even better, once Lucius was aware that Albus was nearby, he was remarkably well-behaved over at the Weasley table.

Harry and Severus made good on their plan to visit Severus' present on Sunday morning. They used a portkey to get to Diana Brand's family compound at the Winter Lands, and had a short visit with them. Diana's two daughters were delighted with the toys that Harry had brought for them (selected after consultation with Hermione and Ginny), and Alrik also seemed glad to welcome them.

Diana quietly explained that she had the workmen use a service floo off the kitchen from her home to Harry's – that would be a completely expected arrangement for workmen. It also supported the story they had been told, that they were doing more work for Diana at a holiday compound. No one knew exactly where they were going, just the floo address. She'd also placed a spell on her floo the last day they worked at Harry's compound, so each worker was befuddled as they returned, forgetting where they had been and what they had been doing farther north. The goblins had left that floo connection open within the wards so that the owners could gain access to the compound, and provided instructions as to how the owners could have the wards recognize them for future access.

Harry and Severus at last stepped through the floo to the North Compound, the name it had borne when occupied decades ago by Einar's family.

They stepped out into the main hall of the home, and were astonished. It was completely recognizable from their first visit, but completely transformed. The windows were the most notable improvements, now solid panes of glass, charmed to give light even through the gloom of the snowstorm raging outside. Everything had been swept and cleaned, and an assortment of rugs warmed the floor of the large room, which was also warmed by fires that Severus quickly lit in the other fireplaces. The rustic furniture remained, although it looked as though that, too, had been scaled down, spruced up and made more comfortable.

The kitchen looked to have been changed a bit, likely Diana's idea, and the staircase to the loft upstairs was more solid, clearly having been repaired.

Severus noticed a door where there had not been one before, and opened it to find his potions lab. It was quite a workspace, even bigger than the one his mother had created for her use back at Snape Manor. There were several workspaces for brewing, including one right in front of a window. How often designers forgot that some potions required sunlight! There were large cupboards, and shelves, some stocked already, with dozens of cauldrons and boxes of stirrers, and a good assortment of basic ingredients. There were even desks and bookcases for reference materials.

There were two doors off the far side of the lab. A small window in each allowed Severus to see that one was an exit to outside the building, but one led into an amazing greenhouse. He stepped through, awed at the size, the brightness, and the amazing things already growing there. Clearly, Tante had been consulted, because as Severus worked his way around the room, he realized that it had already been stocked with a small but select assortment of plants with known (or, in a few cases, suspected) value in potions work.

Harry had followed quietly behind Severus as he went exploring. While technically, he'd given the compound to his bondmate, he knew that the heart of this gift was the lab and the greenhouse that had been built for him. Severus had been quiet as he went along, and Harry worried his lip that something was not as expected. Finally, as Severus stopped to admire something in the greenhouse, Harry spoke up.

"Is it all to your liking, Severus? You're awfully quiet."

Severus stood up from where he had crouched, studying a small group of plants thriving in a warm spot near to door back to the lab. He'd always thought these were tropical plants and never imagined that they could grow, let alone thrive, this far north. There was an unreadable look in his eyes. Severus reached out and pulled Harry to him, into an embrace that was at once gentle and firm.

"It is indeed to my liking, Harry. I've never seen anything like this. It is beyond what I imagined was even possible. Thank you."

The kiss that followed began gently enough, but the frisson of the embrace quickly made it more urgent. Severus finally pulled away, panting and his own heart racing, before they found themselves making love on the cold, dirt floor. Harry looked put-out.

"You've always been rather shy," Severus smirked, nodding toward the far wall, "and I assumed you would not want to take this further with an audience."

Harry noticed with a start that they, did, indeed have an audience. Three cows and several calves had wandered over and had stopped munching on the hay and grass outside the window of the greenhouse to watch the two wizards within.

Grudgingly, Harry allowed, "Well, I'm not so sure they count." Then he heartened. "Let's see upstairs." He had, after all, made a number of very specific requests about the master bedroom and en suite bath, and was reasonable confident there would be no audience up there.

The loft that went around the main hall had been significantly improved under Diana's direction, and no longer looked like the rustic sleeping rooms in most Winter Lands compounds. There were several bedrooms and bathrooms along the corridor that looked out over the main hall, and then the master suite occupied one whole side of the loft. They peeked into the smaller bedrooms as they passed, and noticed that they looked like spaces that would make English wizard feel quite at home. The beds and bed linens were plain, in keeping with the style of the compound, but far more refined and comfortable-looking than the usual rough-hewn furnishings that Harry recalled from his first visit.

The master suite was amazing, exceeding Harry's hopes. There was a modest sitting room/library with comfortable chairs, writing desks, tall shelves and a large fireplace. Despite the fact that Diana had never been to Severus' rooms at Hogwarts, she had created a room that was quite similar to the sitting room they shared there now.

The bedroom and bath were Harry's special project, about the only rooms where his personal preferences were expressed. They were not completely separate rooms; the plumbing that served in the enormous bathroom also served an enormous footed tub in the bedroom itself. The tub was angled to provide a view of the fireplace in the evenings, and of the trees in the forest, for daytime soaks. The furniture was Diana's choice, plain, but clearly "wizard" in origin, far more elegant than elsewhere in the house.

Severus actually chuckled at the tub. "I have to say, Mr. Potter, this design element is quite attractive. I'm surprised more homes don't feature this."

Harry looked up sharply, not entirely certain if Severus was mocking the tub, or appreciated its . . . possibilities. With a flick of Severus' wand, Harry had his answer. The large tub began to fill with hot, soapy water, and the rest of the afternoon was devoted to exploring those possibilities.

Before two spent (and slightly pruned) wizards took portkeys back to Hogwarts from their new compound later that afternoon, Severus consulted the parchments left for them by the goblins.

"Very thoughtful, these wards. This house is warded so that only you and I can enter directly via portkey or apparition. I can put a block on the floo; we can open that to whomever we want to give the coordinates in the future, although they'll have to already be in the Winter Lands. There are similar wards around the fenced in compound, although portkeys will be able to deposit people there. Any guests we might invite here can arrive via portkey, but we'll have to allow them entry to the house ourselves. And they put wards around the field beyond the compound, presumably explaining the healthy cows we saw before. Those just keep the Grendlings away from the field."

With several rather complicated waves of his wand, Severus set the wards of the house to recognize just him and Harry.

Dusk was quickly giving way to night this far north, but Harry insisted that they take a quick stroll about the compound before returning to Hogwarts. The barn was now repaired and clean, as were the smaller outbuildings. Despite the snow falling heavily all around the compound, inside the fence, there was almost no snow on the ground. They finally found what Harry was looking for: a small grotto had been built not too far from the hot spring, with a small swimming pool. There was a large rock bordering the water, shaded by a tall tree. It looked suspiciously like the scene of Harry's first experience swimming au natural, back along the shores of the black lake at Hogwarts. The water steamed in the bitter cold air, having enough of the hot spring water fed into it to keep it from freezing.

Harry and Severus wandered through the plants that surrounded the grotto (and kept the cows away) to admire the pool. "Alas, Mr. Potter," Severus intoned as he crouched down to check the temperature of the water with his hand, "a bit too cold to enjoy this today, although with some good heating charms, and maybe a small windbreak . . . Another time, perhaps. It's growing late."

X X X X X X X X X X

Christmas break seemed to rush past. Harry had ample time to spend with his godfather and Remus, before they had to travel to the market town compound at the Winter Lands to resume work on turning it into a commercial center. Sirius remained more engaged and content than Harry could ever recall seeing him, excited about what he was doing. Remus supported Sirius, he could tell, even though the project was really Sirius' alone. For his own part, Remus was enjoying his work on the Wizengamot, and was showing a marked aptitude for working his way through the intricacies of the legislative process.

Michael and Anna Granger were the rare squibs who had maintained significant connections to the magical world even after all the muggles awoke, and not just through their magical daughter. They resumed their own dental practices once they had patients awake again, but they also continued to consult at St. Mungo's.

The Malfoys departed for Paris the day after Christmas. Harry was surprised that they did not want to spend more time with their son, although Severus, relieved as he was that Lucius was out of the castle, was glad to see them gone. Harry did notice that Draco seemed to be a bit more at ease, once his parents left.

Neville and Nitrocris seemed to spend a great deal of their time in hushed, serious conversation, just the two of them. Not that Nitrocris wasn't warm and friendly to others, but she seemed to have so much to say to Neville. Harry felt a twinge of curiosity as to what was going on with them, but never really had the opportunity to ask them.

The ravens made daily reports, right before lunch. The images grew clearer, bigger and more compelling each day. It was clear that an attack on Hogsmeade was drawing nearer.

Then, on Wednesday, the images changed. The stones in the trebuchets were launched, and the arrows were shooting from the bows. The noise on the battlefield, for that is what it became, was raucous and loud and menacing.

As Severus and Harry hurried to report on this to Albus, he was receiving reports from the Ministry, provided by the muggle authorities. The muggles had noticed a huge flow of people up north since the day after Christmas. Despite the cold, snowy weather, there were dozens of chartered busses and cars cramming the roadways. Several flights had been chartered for small airplanes and even a few helicopters to bring people north, and the trains that ran along that route were overcrowded all week. Sir Harold's estate could provide accommodations for just a small fraction of all the people coming into the area. Tents were pitched all over, and people even slept in vehicles at the sides of the road.

Whatever was happening, it was going to happen soon.


	60. Ch 137 The Battle of Hogsmeade

Chapter 137 – The Battle of Hogsmeade

Albus looked uncharacteristically grave after listening to Harry's report from the ravens, especially when he considered the information passed along to him from the Ministry. He immediately left for London, to meet with the Minister. He spared just a moment to reflect that, all things considered, it was to their advantage that Madam Bones occupied the office of Minister right now, rather than Cornelius Fudge. It was even more to their advantage that Fudge seemed to be a guiding force for the muggles.

The Ministry had concluded on its own earlier in the week that the convergence of so many muggles up in Scotland, at this time of year, could only mean that another attack on Hogwarts was imminent. Even the muggle government was concerned about what was going on up there. The reports of shipments of antique weaponry to locations in the north, some reports slipped into the Minister's hand by Lucius Malfoy, others provided by the muggle government, could not be ignored, either. Now Albus' input solidified the realization that something was going to happen in Scotland, and very soon.

Wizard ministries of magic do not maintain standing armies in the sense that many muggle nations do. Magical countries cooperated more than they competed. Disputes, even across borders, are most likely to be personal, and are dealt with on a personal basis. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement in wizarding Britain was a police force, and focused on issues pertaining to magical laws.

Actually, the notion of any wizard ministry needing an army to defend against muggles was laughable. Trained wizards could make very quick work, indeed, of muggles foolish enough to attack them or a magical target, simply by using their magic. The muggles might instantaneously find themselves miles away from where they were about to attack, or their target might simply disappear from view. They could be rendered immobile, or killed outright. Boulders could be charmed to roll toward them, trees could be charmed to fall on them or in their paths, all manner of things.

The situation with these muggles, at this time, was different. At the request of the Minister, the magical defenders of Hogsmeade were asked to do all they could to avoid harming the attacking muggles, and to refrain from using magic at all, if possible. This was not a popular position, especially among those agitating for the return to secrecy. However, to ignore this clear directive from their government was treason, even in the magical world, so all grudgingly went along.

The Ministry intended to rely primarily on its aurors to defend Hogsmeade and Hogwarts. Hogsmeade was, after all, a civilian target, and only a few of its citizens had any capacity for defensive magic. That had been proven over a year ago when Death Eaters attacked Harry Potter there, and more recently when a demon was summoned – the village's population ran away. Thus, the first order of business was to get as many of the civilians as possible out of the village and into the shelter of Hogwarts through the dozen passages that connected the village and the school. That way, the noncombatants would not be in the way. As soon as the muggles began assembling near Hogsmeade, the aurors would empty the town of all who could not contribute to its defense.

But the aurors were not alone. There were also the Winter Land's warriors, pledged to defend Harry Potter. While technically this expected attack was not on Hogwarts or Harry personally, the Vikings apparently felt cheated when they did not get to participate in the first, brief battle, and were itching to get involved in this one. They were also experts in the weaponry needed for this engagement, as Asgeir Brand pointed out to the Minister. While he offered to coordinate the Viking's engagement with the Ministry, Asgeir made it abundantly clear that Winter Land Warriors fought on their own terms.

The Minister actually thought the warriors were more likely to intimidate muggles, to send them packing without a battle. Most of the aurors were not distinguishable from muggles other than by their clothing. The Vikings were different. Even from her limited interaction with them, Minister Bones realized that the runts among the Vikings were six feet tall, as most of the men were closer to seven feet tall. Nor were they tall and gangly – they were extremely broad and muscled, to the extent that their physical strength was visible. They would be participating in this battle using their strength and prowess, not magic, so she saw no reason to press for them to fight under the same restraints as she was imposing on the aurors.

The battle plan initially put forth by the Ministry was curiously devoid of offensive elements, but then it anticipated only magical defenders. After consultation with Albus, and a hurried exchange of owls with Asgeir Brand, Minister Bones amended the battle plan to reflect that the Winter Lands warriors would engage on their own terms. The magical defenders were to protect the warriors if possible, but allow them free rein to battle as they saw fit.

Minister Bones finally invited the muggle Prime Minister to her offices to be briefed on the plan on Wednesday afternoon. She invited Asgeir Brand to join them. This was the Prime Minister's first visit to the Ministry, and he was escorted there by his assistant, the Ministry's auror Entwhistle, through the floo. Entwhistle saw to it that his muggle boss exited the floo upright and with some dignity as he entered his magical boss' office.

"Ah, there you are, Mr. Prime Minister," she greeted the new arrival. "Come, have a seat, and we'll get you a cup of tea – that's best to calm the stomach after one's first trip via a floo. I don't know if you've met Lord Asgeir Brand, the leader of the Winter Lands?" The two men shook hands, the six-foot tall Prime Minister somewhat awed by the much taller, stronger, and significantly older Viking. "We've established our plan to defend the village of Hogsmeade from the planned attack, and we want to brief you."

As her guest sipped cautiously on a cup of delicious tea that just popped into being at his elbow, she took a seat next to him and flicked her wand. A large parchment flew off her desk and hovered in the air before them, slowly unrolling itself.

"Alright then, this is the town that we expect to be attacked in the next day or two." She made a point of identifying the businesses along the main street: candy stores, several inns and tea houses, clothing stores, joke shops. She also identified a few of the small residences just off the main street, wishing for just a moment that she'd taken the time to have someone provide the names of who lived in each house. It probably didn't matter, though. She could tell from his demeanor that, just as his visit to Hogwarts had made it clear to him that it was a school and not a military fortress, the map made it clear that this was about as non-military a target as a place could be.

"I wanted you to know the instructions that I've given our magical defenders" she went on. "They are members of our police organization, although we are prepared, if necessary, to augment our defenders. We have in our reserves others who have appropriate training, some who work elsewhere in the Ministry, or a few volunteers who do not work for the Ministry. They will all be instructed to use magic to protect themselves but not offensively. Magic will not be used to kill or injure muggles. However, Lord Brand's men, warriors from the Winter Lands, have pledged themselves to defend Hogwarts and Hogsmeade."

She thought it prudent to leave Harry Potter's name out of this, lest he be thought to have urged them to participate.

Asgeir continued to describe the battle plans. "My men and I will defend Hogsmeade if it is attacked. We do not use magic when we fight, so the Minister's restrictions on the use of magic will not apply to us in battle. My men are all well-trained in the weaponry these muggles seem intent on using."

"I'm actually hoping that many of these misguided muggles will quit the field when they see the Vikings," Amelia observed. "Lord Brand is actually rather slight for a Viking."

The Prime Minister swallowed hard, and wrung his hands in his lap. It was bad enough that such a prominent figure as Sir Harold was involved in all this, but that it was happening on his watch as Prime Minister? His opponents would have a field day with it!

The Minister of Magic went on. She had instructed her aurors to cast enchantments and spells throughout the village, with memory erasing charms. Similar spells would be cast all around the field on which the fighting was expected to occur. In much the same way the muggles who attacked the castle a while ago no longer remembered doing so, the muggles who participated in this battle would forget why they were there and not remember having been there once they left.

The Prime Minister brightened at that news. This might yet be a very contained event. No doubt some bad publicity at some point, but he should be able to explain it, yes. This was not likely to be the end of his government. There was hope. He took a deep breath and nodded his agreement to the plan.

"And, finally, Mr. Prime Minister, I would like to invite you to observe all this from the safety of the wards at Hogwarts Castle, to verify that we have adhered to our commitments," Minister Bones offered. "When we get confirmation that hostilities seem about to commence, Mr. Entwhistle will escort you to the school. You were there at the end of the summer, and met the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, and Lords Potter and Snape. Mr. Entwhistle will see to it that you are returned to your office once you are satisfied that we honored our word."

The Prime Minister waffled a bit. Yes, he'd been to Hogwarts before, and it had been all well and good. But did he really want to be an observer of a military attack? He was sure there might be political repercussions to something like that, but found it difficult to sort that all out on his own. Minister Bones and Lord Brand were waiting. Hoping against hope that he was not making a blunder from which he could not recover, he finally nodded.

While the Ministry finalized its plans and made its consultations, muggles continued arriving in the area near Sir Harold's estate, Balmoral Castle, and Hogsmeade. Local police kept them as far as possible from Balmoral, and no one really knew where Hogsmeade was, so the crowd tended to gravitate toward Sir Harold's estate. He'd instructed his grounds staff to allow them to camp on his grounds and to offer provisions to the people coming north for the battle.

The muggles might not have thought to bring heavy-duty tents or adequate food and cooking supplies, but one thing most did bring with them was a copious supply of liquor. The rowdiness of the crowd grew faster than the crowd itself. On Friday morning, the camping mob worked itself up and abandoned Sir Harold's estate. Excited about the prospect of a battle, studying maps provided by Sir Harold's men, a drunken crowd began to make its way to the field in front of Hogsmeade.

As the crowd was unaware of the existence of Hogwarts Castle, they were unaware that they were assembling just a short distance away from a massive structure, from which many were watching them. Watching the mob was quickly the main pastime for most students and guests, and they were soon joined by the very nervous-looking muggle Prime Minister.

The Headmaster quickly directed the professors who had remained in the castle over the holiday to abandon patrols within the castle itself. Their mission now, extremely unpopular in the biting December cold, was to patrol the outside of the castle to ensure that no students managed to sneak out to harry the muggles from the rear of the mob. While the wards kept all but students, professors and visitors from entering, the wards did not block anyone from leaving. That apparently depended on the vigilance of the teaching staff.

The aurors quickly directed all Hogsmeaders to the various tunnels that connected the town to the castle, and as soon as the citizenry was gone, the Vikings made their way to Hogsmeade through the three tunnels large enough to accommodate them. The school Prefects manned all the passages to Hogsmeade to assure that no students could sneak out.

Albus was gathering a small group ready to go off on brooms once the battle began, to cast memory charms around the edge of the battlefield, to befuddle combatants when they departed. He approached Severus as he was placing a final warming charm on his cloak.

"I realize how protective you are of Harry," he began, with careful emphasis on the word "protective." "But we need to get those memory charms in place as soon as the muggles are all in the field. It is not a well-trained group so we must be quick. I have already asked Minerva, Filius and Miss Granger, and I'd like you and Harry to join me. The five of you were the best at this sort of thing in Mrs. Longbottom's class, and we need efficiency."

Severus looked murderous, but cornered. "Have you mentioned this to Harry?" was his first thought. The involvement of Miss Granger made it likely that Harry was at least aware of what the Headmaster was doing.

"No, Severus, I just approached Miss Granger in the Library." Severus smirked at that – the one place she was least likely to be accompanied by either Weasley or Harry.

The Headmaster went on. "I am aware that Mr. Potter had made certain commitments to you about not becoming involved in this battle. I am speaking to you first because this is not actually going to involve participating in the battle, although it will put him on a broom in the general vicinity of the combatants. If you feel this request would violate the commitment he'd made to you, we will just do the best we can without him. I'd hoped that Sirius Black would be in the castle – he had done very well with this in the class – but he is in the Winter Lands, so I thought of Harry."

Severus knew Harry would point out, as Albus did, that this did not involve actually participating in the battle. And with Miss Granger involved, he would know all about it in short order.

"I will speak to Mr. Potter immediately. Assuming he gives his word to strictly limit his activity to casting these charms, I reluctantly agree this is not breaking his commitment," Severus muttered. He really hoped he was not going to regret this.

X

Sir Harold had persuaded Charles and Vernon to stay up at his estate for a few extra days, as all indications were that there would be a critical mass poised for an attack very shortly. Vernon was a bit concerned about Petunia's reaction to his absence from home all week, especially with Marge in town. But he really enjoyed spending time in the luxury of the estate. Yes, he could definitely get used to this sort of life! He was also very excited at the prospect of the glory and renown he would enjoy after leading a decisive victory over magic. Ultimately, he convinced himself it was all for the best that he stay on in Scotland.

As the crowd was spilling in the nearby field on Friday, the three self-proclaimed leaders of the anti-magic Movement were joined by Reggie Mason and two Riddle cousins. As a group, they travelled to the field, riding in camouflaged troop trucks, along with the Brigadier and a number of men who had been to the estate earlier in the fall for training on the old weapons.

Today would be the day. It was cold and the wind was biting, but the snow had stopped falling, and sun was shining feebly. Sir Harold, Vernon and Charles looked proud and excited – each in his own way, they expected great things to come of this battle.

The Brigadier had equipped the men he had trained with walkie-talkies as they prepared to deploy into the now-large crowd. He quickly established a base on a hill overlooking the field of battle, joined by his employer. He pointed to a hill a bit closer to Hogsmeade and dispatched Reggie and two Riddle cousins there with walkie-talkies to provide additional perspective. Vernon and Charles were directed to a hill on the other side of the field, with similar tools and instructions.

From his base, and with input from the other observation teams, the Brigadier intended to provide direction to the men fighting in the field. Those men now moved among the crowd, offering tips on how to use some of the antique weapons that people had brought along, and creating some sort of order, but it was an uphill battle. This was really more of a mob than an organized attack force, and they were enthusiastic, inebriated, and armed.

The first trebuchet was supposed to be launched on the Brigadier's orders, as it was the signal to all the trained troops to begin the assault.

Unfortunately, several university students on holiday from Swansea had commandeered an unattended catapult as soon as they took the field at dawn, stashing a case of ale at its base. They were just horsing around, really, but when they saw the recently-arrived troops taking control of some of the other siege engines, they wanted to be sure they got to keep their big machine, rather than hand it over to the late arrivals. They climbed onto it, and as one of their number was working his way up to the very top, one of the others accidentally loosed the catch and launched it. They had already jostled it enough to point it, not at Hogsmeade, but at the small hill off to the side, where Reggie and two Riddle cousins were standing, scanning the field with binoculars. They weren't watching for incoming projectiles, so they did not see the boulder coming straight at them.

The first fatality of the Battle of Hogsmeade was a Riddle cousin, a wizard, hit by muggle fire. Of course, since the signal to attack was the launch itself, almost no one realized that anything was amiss. The battle commenced, and quickly turned into a free-for-all.

Other trebuchets and catapults immediately launched their ammunition. At least most of these were actually directed at Hogsmeade and had ranges far enough that the muggle troops now starting to surge forward beneath them were not endangered by the launches. The stones and boulders did not do much harm to Hogsmeade, although the muggles couldn't really see that. The wizards in the rear were arresting the falls of the stones or boulders, or causing them to fragment before getting close to structures.

Once initial loads of stones and bolders were shot, there was the matter of a supply chain to reload them. A few carts with suitable rocks were scattered about, but the men working the trebuchets could not always find them quickly, especially as many were covered in snow, and the snow and mud on the ground made it very difficult to move the carts around. After three or four salvos, most of the trebuchets were out of ammunition. As the crowd of muggles pressed forward, the large siege engines could not be moved off the field because they were trapped in a mob of muggles.

Several of the now-silent catapults and trebuchets were quickly "claimed" by small groups of muggles (not unlike the young men from Swansea who started it all). They climbed onto the large apparatuses, some seeking a better view, some hoping to escape the crush of people pressing forward, some now starting to have doubts about this whole "battle" thing. The buckets at the top of the structures looked like great seats with a good view. More than a few muggles got themselves settled into the buckets, enjoying the mayhem below from what felt like a safe distance. Every once in a while, someone else on that same catapult would accidentally (or maybe deliberately) launch it, sending the muggle in the bucket flying into the air. The launched muggles seldom went all that far forward, but were usually propelled high enough to land very heavily on other muggles slightly in front of them.

Toward the front of the battle lines, archers had assembled as soon as the trebuchets were silent. The battle plan anticipated that their way would have been cleared somewhat by the salvos from the trebuchets. However, the village did not look damaged at all. To the archers' horror, people who looked like Vikings were appearing at the edge of the town and walking toward them. The men were huge. They wore their usual leather and fur armor, wielded enormous swords and maces, and held shields the size of doors lightly in their non-fighting hands. Several were clad in braces of glittering scale-mail, as well.

The archers fired a barrage of arrows, most of which fell far short of the intended targets. The few arrows that actually got close to the Vikings were easily deflected. The archers, especially the ones with no formal training on bow and arrow, looked at each other uneasliy. Clearly, this was harder than it looked. Many of them had chosen the bow because it looked easy enough and allowed distance between them and anyone who might mean them harm. This wasn't going quite as they expected. Most of them started to fade back into the ranks of fighters behind them.

The men with maces and swords who had been pushing in behind the archers now surged forward, putting themselves between the archers and the Vikings. Most of the archers still interested in fighting lowered their weapons, fearful of hitting their comrades. However, the fact that their comrades were now in the line of fire never occurred to some of them. Most of the muggle battle casualties of the day were inflicted by other muggles, muggles launched from siege engines into the crowd below them, and many shot in the back with arrows by several archers who did not appreciate how poorly they were aiming their shots.

As muggles with maces and swords like their own now came into view, the Vikings shouted, and charged forward. The most well-trained of the muggle men pressed forward gamely, confident that their skills would enable them to prevail against physically larger opponents. Others pressed forward completely unaware how overmatched they were.

Sir Harold was standing proudly on a boulder, watching the battle through a large pair of field binoculars. The Brigadier looked up at him and shook his head. He was disgusted with the unruly mob scene before him. He would have estimated that well over half of his combatants were drunk, and even among the sober, they had no idea what they were doing. Apparently, this was a lark for most of them. The relatively few trained troops were so outnumbered, they could not make a difference.

Earlier in the week, the Brigadier had spoken to Sir Harold about the importance of taking just a well-trained force into the field. He had seen the kind of people who were already arriving near the estate, and did not want to include them in the battle. Sir Harold, on the other hand, wanted large numbers. As a military man, the Brigadier respected his chain of command, and as a retired military man, he knew who signed his paychecks. He thus accepted Sir Harold's directive to welcome all who arrived up in Scotland wanting to take on the wizards. And this was the result. The Brigadier thought it was shameful.

Across the way, Reggie had become hysterical when he and Hiram Riddle had realized that cousin Adney seemed to have been killed. In his complete distress, Reggie could not remember how to work the walkie-talkie, and he fiddled with it for quite a while before he got an answer to his cries for help from the Brigadier.

"Brigadier! Brigadier! Help! Can you hear me? It's Mason and the Riddles. Please, can anyone hear us?" Reggie had cried, the first message he had succeeded in transmitting.

"Aye, I hear you. What's the problem, lad?" came the brusque answer.

"We've been hit, sir. A huge boulder, from one of those big contraptions out there. Flew through the air, we didn't see it coming. Hit Adney. He's . . . he's dead, we think." Reggie had no idea what to do, and stood awaiting instructions.

Hiram "Riddle" had seen enough of death in his role as a Death Eater, and he realized pretty quickly that Adney was gone. As soon as Reggie was occupied with that little box the Brigadier had given him, he apparated away. Reggie still had not noticed that he'd gone.

Vernon had overheard the exchange between Reggie and the Brigadier. His blood ran cold. It had never occurred to him that this could get personally dangerous. He certainly had not bargained for anything that could result in injury, or God forbid, death!

"Did you hear that, Charles?" he demanded of his fellow leader. "One of the Riddle boys was killed! We have to do something – this is getting out of hand!"

Cornelius looked as concerned as Vernon felt, although he was wondering what on earth Dursley had expected. He knew full well that this attack was going to involve weapons; that had been clear from the start. What did the fool think the weapons were going to do? Granted, that sounded like the Riddle boy was killed by his own side, but weapons are weapons. They do damage.

Cornelius assessed the melee in front of him. There were a growing number of muggle combatants who had realized that this was not exactly what they expected, and they were starting to run off the field of battle, away from Hogsmeade. With the catapults and trebuchets silenced (except for the occasional muggle-launching), and most of the archers trying to join those running for safety, the battle was mostly between combatants with swords.

He was certain that one of the men he saw through the odd-looking spy-glass he'd been given by the Brigadier was Asgier Brand. That meant that the Winter Lands Vikings were defending Hogsmeade, not the fool shopkeepers who lived there. This was not going as he expected, and the outcome was assuredly not going to be the one he wanted. He needed to get out of here, and consider a new approach.

Apparating away in full view of Dursley would reveal himself as a wizard. That would cost him access to the muggle anti-magic movement. Of course, that might not matter, if this debacle meant the end of the movement. However, at this point, Cornelius wasn't sure about that, or what direction his next effort would take. His goal remained to resume unchallenged leadership of the wizarding world. Best to keep all options open, until new plans could be drawn up.

"Come along, Dursley," he barked. "We'll be able to get across the field now. We'll collect the two across the way, and head up to the main base. It's too unruly out there, and we'll all be safer behind the action."

Cornelius got Vernon pointed toward the base across the way, and pushed him forward. He would let Vernon go on and assume the fool would do as he just suggested. He planned to apparate away, as soon as he was sure that Vernon was looking elsewhere.

There were other combatants preparing to join the battle, however. No one, on either side, was aware of them. Unseen, beneath the ground, this battle was being monitored by several Black Wyrms. The Wyrms had been keeping an eye on Hogwarts, and the Vikings from their homeland, for quite a while now.

The Wyrm Elders respected the young king for ridding their land of Shadows. They had listened to the report of the young Wyrms who had met the young king in the tunnels. They allowed those young Wyrms to spend time in the land where the young man lived. He had told the Wyrms that he expected war, and hoped they would be his allies. If they were to help him, they needed to be close at hand. It had proven to be a rather dull watch, until very recently.

The arrival of so many of the non-magic land-dwellers in the vicinity was noted immediately. Then there was all that movement in the land-dwellers' tunnels. The Wyrms had noticed the tunnels long before, but had never seen but one or two land-dwellers using them at a time. Today there was an absolute flood of them going in both directions. And the Vikings were all going away from the king's home. It felt like they were carrying their big weapons, too.

One of the Wyrms in the ground beneath Hogwarts quickly entered the ley lines back to the Winter Lands, and returned with several other Wyrms moments later. They weren't entirely sure what was going on, but were watching events carefully. The Vikings were the young king's allies, and the others in the town with magic had also come out from the castle. The Wyrms noticed that there were magical signatures from some land-dwellers scattered along the edges of the field where all the non-magical land-dwellers had assembled who had not come from out of the castle. They were watching those.

The Wyrms noticed that the young king and several others, including one who had been with the young king in the Winter Lands, flew out from their home, but it was just a quick flight around the field where all the non-magical land-dwellers had assembled. They were starting to head back to their home in the castle when something happened.

The Wyrms were mobilized to act when the non-magical land-dwellers killed one with a magical signature. To the Wyrms, the death of Adney "Riddle" meant that the non-magical land-dwellers were attacking those defending their ally, the young king. The Wyrms moved closer to the surface of the earth, and prepared to strike.

Vernon was just a few steps away into the melee, when he stumbled a bit on some uneven earth, and he reached back for Charles to steady himself. At that very moment, the first Wyrm to breach the land pushed out, its maw gaping open. Vernon saw blackness lurch up to surround him, and when he found Charles' arm, he instinctively grabbed even more firmly. At that very moment, Charles tried to apparate away from the battle.

Vernon was swallowed whole. Charles was splinched, his upper half swallowed by the Wyrm along with Vernon, and the rest of him landing in a bloody mess somewhere in the English Channel between Scotland and Abbeville.

The Wyrms then took solid form on the snowy field. They kept clear of the Vikings, whom they recognized as allies, but found ample land-dwellers clustered in the middle of the field. They circled and bobbed, preparing to devour the land-dwellers who were attacking the young king's men.

The muggles were horrified at this menacing blackness – those could not be creatures, could they? – that had just appeared in their midst. All those in the area near the things began running away in terror.

Sir Harold and the Brigadier stood in stunned silence atop their small hill, slightly removed from the action. Their glorious battle against magic was a disaster.

The trebuchets had turned into a weapon against their own forces. After a few early salvos that did not seem to inflict any damage at all on the village, they just launched drunken collegians, who usually hurt themselves and others in their landings. The archers could hardly get their arrows into the air, let alone with enough force to carry any distance or inflict any damage upon arrival, and some of them didn't even think to stop shooting when their fellows had pressed forward ahead of them. Finally, the Vikings had proved to be far too accomplished swordsmen. Many of the men and women who had pressed forward to challenge them in direct combat had been cut down. The Brigadier had continually monitored action through his field glasses, and was puzzled also by some large blackness that had settled into the middle of the field, and seemed to be wreaking its own havoc. Out of caution, he took Sir Harold firmly by the arm and hustled him off to the first troop carrier. Leaving most of their troops behind, they hastily quit the field.

Albus Dumbledore had led his team of six down to the edge of the wards around the castle grounds while the muggles were still coming onto the field. As soon as Albus saw the battle begin, he herded his group outside the wards and they took to their brooms. They kept out of sight of the muggles, flying low behind trees and in the dales between the low hills. Working in teams of two, they rapidly cast memory charms linked to the land all around the edges of the fields. On their way back, they flew along the small woods that lined the area, assuming retreating muggles might seek shelter there on their way.

As Harry and Severus were speeding back to Hogwarts, Severus nearly collided with Harry when he very suddenly skidded his broom in a fast turn. Not as accomplished a flyer, Severus made a looping turn and flew back to stop alongside Harry in the air. The scolding reminders of his promise not to engage at all in this battle were on the tip of his tongue, but Severus refrained from speaking them when he saw the strange look on Harry's face.

Not entirely sure what was wrong, Severus came closer to Harry and took his arm in his hand. "Are you unwell, Harry? I can carry you back on my broom. Come, let's land."

Harry's trance seemed broken by Severus' voice. He shook his head, but let his broom drop to the ground. Severus looked around the area quickly; luckily, they were behind some trees here, so no muggles could see them.

Once his feet touched the land, Harry dropped his broom and with his wand in his hand, quickly sought out the nearest ley line. Recalling how he had entered those lines once before, he cautiously pushed his mind into it, just a bit.

He was sure he'd heard Paresltongue. He knew Severus would object if he tried to get a look at the battle, but from somewhere in that direction, he was sure he'd heard it. It didn't sound like Voldemort at all; his voice was unique. It actually sounded like several voices were speaking in Parseltongue. He had immediately thought of the Wyrms.

"Dragons of the Winter Lands – can you hear me?" his mind called cautiously as he stood stock still on the land. Severus watched him nervously, but stood aside, not knowing what was happening, but aware that the young man was safe where he was now staring silently at the ground.

For their part, the Wyrms heard Harry instantly. They had been snapping at the horrified muggles, but reluctant to bite more than the first few they'd attacked. They'd noticed immediately that these non-magical land-dwelling creatures seemed to pose no threat, and they even seemed incapable of effective retreat. It was their discussion about what to do next that Harry had overheard, and when they heard his voice, the four Black Wyrms melted back into the soil from which they had sprung, and they hurried off to talk to Harry.

"Yes, young king, we hear you," the leader of the small group of Wyrms answered as they entered the ley lines, and seconds later, they saw him, or at least his mind. "We have been here all along, awaiting your summons. When we saw the non-magical land dwellers attack the magical beings who defend you, we knew that your war had begun. We joined in to defend you, as you had once asked of us."

Harry felt a jolt of dismay at that. Muggles were no match for wizards, but for Merlin's sake, these were dragons!

Before he could say anything, the leader of the Wyrm group continued. "Those non-magical land dwellers were helpless before us. We did kill a few of them before we realized that they actually pose no threat. We were not sure what to do when we heard your voice."

Harry took a centering breath, which relieved Severus, watching his physical body, unaware that Harry's consciousness was elsewhere.

"I appreciate your help," Harry began. "And I am very proud that you are willing to assist me in the war. But, as you realized, this is not the battle for you. The creatures who were attacking the Winter Lands Warriors have no magic, and were no match even for the Warriors who were not using magic themselves. I hope that you will remain watchful, because the war is only just starting, and the next battle will likely be one where I will need your help, where you will make a huge difference in the outcome of the battle. But let the muggles, the non-magical land dwellers, retreat in peace. They've lost the day, and they really do pose no threat to me, or to you. Stay here in the ground, and be ready for the next battle."

The four Wyrms bowed their heads to Harry, and dropped deeper into the ley lines, to resume their silent vigil beneath Hogwarts. Harry pushed right back into his body. He opened his eyes, and blinked.

Unfortunately, the first thing he saw was the murderously angry face of his bondmate.

Another centering breath, and a small smile, prepared Harry to speak before what seemed like quite a tirade could begin.

"I heard Parseltongue being spoken. Not one voice," he added quickly, sure that Severus' first thought would be that he'd heard Voldemort. "It was several voices, for sure, and it sounded like the Black Wyrms. I needed to go into the ley lines, not far, just a little bit, and call to them there. There were four Wyrms. They are apparently keeping watch over us from beneath the land, and when they saw this battle begin, they felt this was the war in which I had asked them to be my allies."

Severus cast a very nervous and uneasy glance at the ground beneath them.

"They had already realized the muggles were no match for anyone with magic," Harry went on, "and it seemed they weren't sure if they should continue. That's the conversation I overheard. They are gone from the battle now, back into the ground. I told them the next battle was going to be the one in which I really needed their help, where they'd really make a difference."

Severus noticed that Harry still looked crestfallen. "Then why the glum face?" he asked.

"The Wyrms said that they did kill a few muggles before they realized how defenseless they were," Harry admitted with a shudder. The death toll grew.

"Those muggles were not innocent, Harry," Severus lectured. "They were on that field with weapons that they intended to use, and they meant you, us, harm. It was not an even battle, and I am glad that the Wyrms have quit the field, but the muggles were there as combatants. You cannot regard them as people you should have saved. Come, back on the brooms before we are seen."

His mind agreeing with Severus' words but his heart still not sure, Harry summoned his broom with a wave of his hand. He hopped on and followed Severus back through the wards and into the protections of the castle.

The battle was completely over well within an hour, with the muggles in full retreat. As the troop carriers that had brought some of them had departed half-empty, many muggle combatants had a long walk ahead back to Sir Harold's estate or wherever they left cars and camping gear.

Funny, but none of them remembered why they were there to start with.

The Winter Lands Warriors had backed off as soon as the muggles were on the run, and stood protectively in front of the roads into Hogsmeade watching the retreat. Back in Hogsmeade, the aurors complemented themselves on an earlier decision to refrain from casting memory charms, when it seemed the muggles would not get into the town. Had they done that, they'd now have to set to removing them before they could leave.

When the last muggle had run from the field, the aurors and the Viking set off for the Three Broomsticks. Rosemerta, the only Hogsmeader who had remained in the town after it was evacuated, was already pouring glasses of her finest mead for the victory celebration.


	61. Ch 138 Some Explaining To Do

Chapter 138 – Some Explaining To Do

The Prime Minister stood stock still at the window, watching the last of the bloody fools who had tried to attack the little village scurry off the field. It wasn't entirely clear to him what had happened – it was mayhem out there, then there was something moving in the middle of the field for a minute. There seemed to be dirt flying in the air, but by the time he'd gotten the binoculars focused, there just appeared to be a muddy patch from which everyone in the area was running. The damn idiots had started to leave before then, but whatever happened in that muddy patch really galvanized them, and they retreated in earnest at that point. Thank God this was over. Now, he needed to understand what happened and how appropriate explanations could be offered.

He saw the school doctor, a wool cape over that extremely old-fashioned outfit she was wearing, and several others in similar garb, take to brooms, large baskets in their arms, and fly on to what had been a battlefield just minutes before. What did they call her? Medical witch? Mediwitch? As he pondered her title, the Prime Minister marveled anew at this flying-on-brooms thing. He'd seen it before up here, but he had to stop and shake his head every time he saw it again.

One member of the small group dropped to the ground in the middle there, where all the ruckus was, and a few others scattered around that vicinity, but the rest went closer to the town. They were going to all the men (and it looked like several women, although long hair was no longer a particularly reliable means of ascertaining someone's sex, he reminded himself) who had been injured, and apparently, disgracefully, left behind by their fellows.

He watched, fascinated, as most of the injured were checked over and with a wave of a wand, those still conscious fell into a quiet sleep and levitated without means of stretchers or stretcher-bearers, moving in a line back towards the castle.

A few of the fallen seemed to be less lucky. The witches and wizards who went out to tend to them spent time, sometimes alone and sometimes in groups, huddled over them, waving their wands and pouring little bottles of who-knows-what on wounds and downs throats. He certainly hoped they knew what they were doing, and were not hurting anyone! At least, not more than they'd already been hurt by all the nonsense that went on out there.

He trained his binoculars on the town, which slowly seemed to be filling with people again. There was a public house just visible down the road into town, and it seemed to be doing a brisk business. There were people now starting to walk on the streets that had been so eerily empty before. Didn't seem to have hurt the town, or its inhabitants, at all.

Martin Entwhistle finally appeared at his boss' elbow.

"Sir, the Minister of Magic has arrived, and would like a word," he said very softly, as the man appeared to be quite absorbed with the events unfolding down on the snowy ground.

"Hmmm," the Prime Minister answered absently, slowly drawing his attention away from the muddy field. "Of course. Lead the way."

X

The line of the dead and injured was not nearly as long as it might have been, and most of the injuries were not life-threatening, at least not in the hands of skilled magical healers. The injured had just been stabilized on the field, and immobilized for their trip to the Hogwarts Infirmary.

The now-unconscious patients hovered in the foyer of the Infirmary, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to triage and assign them as appropriate to the available staff. The Infirmary was currently staffed by Madam Pomfrey and her own nurses, as well as several members of the staff at St. Mungo's who had flooed to Hogwarts to assist. She was not surprised to find the Drs. Granger already there, donning their strange white muggle coats, volunteering to assist.

Cuts and simple puncture wounds from arrows were handled by the Hogwarts nursing staff. Broken bones were quickly fixed by the more junior mediwitches and wizards from St. Mungo's. Several muggles had concussions. It was tricky to arrest brain swelling while repairing bone, and it had to be done fast, so the most experienced practitioners took those. There were a few muggles with damaged or severed spinal cords. Nerve regeneration was particularly complicated, especially when the spine was involved, but Madam Pomfrey had quite a bit of experience with that sort of injury. She took those cases for herself.

There were also three muggles with severed limbs, and one with a gash that nearly severed the poor man's body in two. Those kinds of injuries took a good amount of skill and some time to get right. Plus, when you had several people to work on who had all had limbs severed, you had to be extra careful to get those limbs back onto the right bodies. Fortunately, several of the healers from St. Mungo's had experience reattaching limbs and other body parts, so they worked on those injuries. Those muggles, now with all their original limbs, were soon as good as new.

Michael Granger was explaining a muggle medical procedure to a St. Mungo's mediwizard puzzled by some foreign matter near the heart of one of the muggles. As a dentist, he was certainly not qualified to prescribe or insert a pacemaker, but he knew enough from his general reading to describe what had been done.

"Really?" the mediwizard exclaimed. "Why on earth would someone do such a thing?"

As Michael, shortly joined by Anna, provided as much information as they could recall of the procedure to insert a pacemaker and the instances in which such an operation might be performed, the mediwizard used magic to clear out arteries and generally get the muggle's heart back to rights. Actually, Michael would have thought that this muggle's more acute problem was the arrow protruding from his stomach, but the mediwizard fussed elsewhere first. Finally, Anna asked the question Michael was thinking.

"I'm curious about the treatment protocol you follow. Is the arrow in the belly not of concern? I would have thought that was the more urgent issue here."

The mediwizard shrugged. "That arrow isn't a problem. I was curious about the heart, but the arrow injury won't take but a second to fix." To illustrate, he gently pulled it out, cast several spells over the man's belly, and to the amazement of the Doctors Granger, the wound simply disappeared, leaving an almost undetectable scar.

The chatter continued as the group of medics worked. There was some curiosity among the magical medics about what sort of event had occurred that resulted in the assortment of injuries being treated. The Grangers were the only ones in the group who had been watching the battle, and they shared that they saw. Their interpretation of the blackness in the middle of the battlefield caught Poppy's attention.

"It was the oddest thing," Anna began. "In the middle of the battle, it looked like a starling murmuration occurred. We'd watched them back at Oxford – the little black starlings gathered in marshes just a few miles from campus, and we spent many afternoons marveling at the show as the birds flew. But I'd never seen anything like that near here, wasn't even aware that there were starlings about."

Her husband added, "I thought of the starlings myself, straight off. But I never saw a flock gathering. It was as if they just sprang out of the earth or something. But there they were, swooping and moving in that graceful mob, almost like larger creatures themselves, not individual birds. The most amazing thing."

Poppy asked a few questions about this "murmuration" phenomenon, but the conversation quickly drifted back to weapons and the injuries being resolved.

All things considered, it was remarkable that just five combatants were ultimately beyond saving once brought to the infirmary. One had suffered a crush injury to his head; even the best magical healers could not fix a smashed-in head. Madam Pomfrey suspected that the others had illnesses or conditions that rendered them particularly vulnerable to very bad outcomes even before coming to Scotland, because they did not have the most calamitous injuries. It seemed that their hearts had just stopped beating, and could not be revived.

Madam Pomfrey went off to report on the overall satisfactory outcome of the rescue effort to the Headmaster, once her patients were tended to.

X

Albus had waited for at the castle door for the last of the group that had flown out to cast memory charms to return. It was Severus and Harry, which was not surprising because they had made a loop around a small copse of trees that stood a ways back from Hogsmeade. It was a bit off the most likely path of retreat when the muggles left, but a possible path. What was surprising was the looks of distress on their faces.

"My boys, I thought that went very well, until I saw the looks on your faces just now," he began, as he closed the door behind them. "What has you both so upset?"

Severus took a quick look around the foyer, noting that it was rather deserted. "Harry heard something as we were flying back to the castle, Albus. We stopped for a moment, which is why we are late returning."

Both pairs of eyes now trained on Harry, who was worrying his lower lip in concern. "I heard voices speaking Parseltongue. Several voices. The Black Wyrms are here. They've been watching us from under the ground, as they've apparently agreed to be my allies in this war with Voldemort. I didn't know – I had asked for their help, but had no idea they were here, now."

Harry looked haunted, a look that made Severus' heart ache. He'd seen that look before, and had hoped not to see it again. He knew that Harry felt responsible for the action of dragons (that he did not even know were in the area), in killing some muggles (who likely were trying to kill him). They'd spoken about this before, and it appeared that they'd have to speak on it again. That was NOT his fault.

Taking a big breath, Harry pressed on. "The Wyrms saw the battle start, and concluded that their assistance was needed, so they joined in. They told me that they had killed just a few muggles when they realized the muggles are defenseless against them, not able to even really fight. That's when I interrupted them, when we stopped and I spoke to them."

Albus looked shocked, and turned to Severus.

"Did anyone see the Black Wyrms?" he asked softly.

"I suppose the muggles involved in the battle saw them when they appeared on the land. I didn't see them, myself, Headmaster," Severus replied. "Harry spoke to them in the ley lines; that's why he had to land."

Harry wondered for a moment if the fact that he alone had seen and spoken to the Wyrms was going to be a problem here. He volunteered, "They were the ones who helped me return to Hogwarts after I got lost in the ley lines, back when I cast my spell too hard. When I called out to them, I called through the ley lines and they were there in a second. They were not likely on land for more than minute, maybe two, from when I heard them above ground to when we spoke in the ley lines."

It seemed that both Severus and the Headmaster accepted his explanation, but Albus looked sharply at both of them.

"I think it might be best to keep this fact to ourselves for now. Madam Bones and the Muggle Prime Minister are here, and we will be meeting in the Ministry Annex. These allies of yours might be very valuable in this war, Harry, especially if our magical enemy doesn't know about them. I don't think it prudent to mention this to the Prime Minister, but if you wouldn't mind, stop by the Annex office in half an hour. I believe Amelia should know."

Albus was about to enter the Ministry Annex when he was intercepted by Madam Pomfrey. Albus smiled at her warmly as she took his arm to speak to him. "And how are the injured, Poppy?" he asked.

"All but five have survived this nonsense" she replied crisply. "One seemed to have been crushed by a boulder to the head, no doubt a misdirected launch from one of the trebuchets the muggles had on the field. The other ones who died seemed to have problems with their hearts; their injuries were minor, but their hearts stopped beating and we could not get them to restart. We were able to get everyone else back together, good as new. Three limbs had to be reattached, but that's taken care of."

Albus nodded encouragingly, and she continued. "Some could probably go home later today, but others will need to be watched. Those can leave in a day or two, but there was one man with a completely severed spinal cord – we need to watch that one for a few more days to be sure he's healed."

She thought to add, "The Grangers joined us, lovely people and always so helpful when we find some evidence of muggle medical practice that we don't understand. They were watching the battle, and they described something that occurred in the middle of the battlefield that was very odd, very odd indeed. Anna said it appeared that something she called a starling murmuration occurred. I've never heard that term, but Michael described the birds moving so closely and in such coordination that it appeared they were one large creature, not a flock of individual birds."

Albus was careful to hide his reaction to Poppy's report of what Michael Granger reported seeing. That was how the Grangers interpreted the sight of the Black Wyrms. That they saw this from the castle meant that the ancient dragons were seen by many people, so some explanation would have to be advanced.

"Thank you, Poppy, for the quick report. I have to meet with the Prime Minister and the Minister of Magic but do keep me updated on any developments with your patients."

Albus joined the Ministers in the Annex conference room, and it was clear that they had been awaiting his arrival. "I apologize for my tardiness," he began. "I stopped to chat with Madam Pomfrey, our school mediwitch, who had a report on the muggles we retrieved from the field of battle this afternoon. All but five have been completely fixed up. One man's head was crushed by a boulder, no doubt launched from one of the siege engines, and four seemed to have pre-existing problems with their hearts. I gather their injuries were minor, but we could do nothing for them."

The muggle Minister nodded. "Heart attacks, no doubt. But just five fatalities? It certainly looked like a rout from the castle, and I would have expected much worse."

Albus realized that some of the injuries that Poppy and her St. Mungo's colleagues could easily repair would, indeed, have been fatal if only muggle medicine was available to them. But Albus knew that was a fact that could not be shared with the muggle Minister. The healing ability of magic, as well as its incredible destructive force, was the sort of thing that muggles inevitably envied and wanted placed in their service. It was that envy and the muggles' efforts to control and then obliterate magic that had led to the Statute of Secrecy in 1692, after all. Albus wasn't entirely sure where this current openness with muggles was heading, but he thought it imprudent to provide any additional information that might rekindle the envy from centuries ago.

The muggle Minister took Albus' silence as agreement at their great good fortune, and he thought to ask, "What happened in the middle of the field there? It was chaos all around, but then I saw some blackness roiling around in the middle, and people were running away with gusto. By the time I got my blasted field glasses focused, whatever it was seemed to have vanished."

Albus acknowledged that he did not know for sure, but thought to offer up the Granger's observation. "Madam Pomfrey mentioned to me that two muggle doctors visiting in the castle, who were helping out in the Infirmary, reported that they saw something odd in the middle of the field. They thought they'd seen a, what was the term? A starling murmuration."

The Prime Minister immediately slapped his knee and nodded his head emphatically.

"That's it, that's exactly it looked like," he muttered. "I never saw a murmuration appear and disband that fast, but now that I think on it, that's what it looked like."

Albus was surprised that this phenomenon of the formation flying done by flocks of starlings was apparently so well known to muggles. His mother had amused him and his brother and sister when they were small by charming flocks of starlings to fly like that. He assumed that other wizarding parents similarly entertained small children with those charms, causing the flocks to fly in remarkably intricate and flowing patterns. Of course, now that he thought on it, thousands of birds would have to fly high enough, and over a large enough span, that it was to be expected that muggles would see. But if this was such a wide-spread phenomenon, it was also possible that someone cast spells improperly that did not wear off. Perhaps the charms drove starling flight long after the one who cast them forgot about it.

It was interesting, and possibly useful, that both the Grangers and the Prime Minister both knew about this phenomenon and agreed that was what they saw on the field. He'd have to discuss that with Amelia, privately, once the Prime Minister had departed and Harry and Severus had arrived.

"Most interesting, and curious, Mr. Prime Minister," Albus began, and then he immediately pushed the discussion in a different direction. "Several of us cast memory charms around the perimeter of the field, so the muggles who departed don't remember much about what they were doing there. We'll cast similar charms on the muggles we brought here to be treated before they leave. I suspect that there might be some among the muggles able to quit the field on their own power who are nonetheless injured. So there will some awareness that something occurred here today, that led to certain injuries, but no clarity as to what that might have been."

"But what of the dead? How do we explain them?" the man asked.

Albus nodded sadly. "Yes, tragically, we do have some dead. And I fear that there might be others we've missed."

Ameila quickly added, "I have already directed that all available aurors are to report here immediately, and they will begin a thorough check. That is rough terrain out there. While it's unlikely that Madam Pomfrey and her colleagues missed anyone, the weather is getting bad and we certainly wouldn't leave anyone outside."

Albus was thinking quickly, and reacted immediately to Amelia's reference to rough terrain. They had to explain the sudden appearance of a huge flock of birds, and account for the few dead whose bodies, he knew, were not going to be recovered. He had an idea, a possible explanation for both situations, and one that certainly worked with her observation. He hesitated for the merest second, because he'd be setting the explanation of this event off on a path here that they'd have to work with for a while. However, it did seem to be the best they had, so he went ahead. "Some of the land around the castle is not stable. There are caves and caverns, impossibly deep. Until we have a closer look at the field where the starlings seem to have appeared, I think we have to assume that there might have been a fissure opened."

Albus cast a quick glance at Amelia, hoping that she'd play along. As she and he both knew, there were _open_ fissures in the land around the castle, over which numerous bridges had been built. That was what she meant by her reference to "rough terrain." They both knew that the land itself, where there were buildings or pathways, was solid. Over the millennium that the castle had stood, there had never been any sort of instability in the land. She gave him a quick, subtle nod, a signal that she would go along with him.

"Mr. Prime Minister, it would be very helpful to determine if anyone from among those who took the field are not now accounted for, either in our Infirmary or back with their fellows. Might you and your police organization be able to determine if there are any missing persons?"

Albus volunteered, "I will secure the names of the muggles we have in the Infirmary and provide that to you immediately, Madam Minister."

The Prime Minister looked at Martin Entwhistle, who had remained quietly in the background. "Entwhistle, can you connect me with the local authorities up here? From all reports, this event seems to have been centered over at Sir Harold Beckwith's estate. Perhaps I can pay Sir Harold a visit with the local constable. My presence might make that interview a bit easier."

A sudden thought occurred to him, however. "Mr. Dumbledore, you said your folks cast some kind of spell to make people forget what happened out there. Will that mean if we speak to Sir Harold or any of his employees, they will not be able to recall who was with them?"

Albus leaned back in his chair and pondered that question. "They will still be with their companions when they pass through our charms, so their companions will be recalled, if not the actual activities in which they all engaged. I don't think that will be a problem. If you feel that someone might have information that would help us but that cannot be recalled because of those charms, Mr. Entwhistle can contact us. If we act quickly, it is often possible to extract memories from behind these charms for a brief while, before the events are completely forgotten."

The Prime Minister and auror Entwhistle departed from the Annex via floo, and before Amelia could even ask a question about the "starling murmuration" and the sudden appearance of fissures in the land around the castle, Severus and Harry knocked and entered.

Severus was his usual elegant and collected self, nodding austerely at the Minister of Magic as he swept over to a seat. Harry, on the other hand, was busy offering explanations.

"Headmaster, Madam Bones, we waited off the corridor outside, in case the Prime Minister left the Annex. When we heard the floo, though, we realized he was not walking out that way, so we came right over." He had learned the hard way from the Dursleys that eavesdropping was very offensive to some people (although, in truth, they only caught him at it the once), and he certainly did not want anyone to think that he and Severus had been listening at the door.

For his part, Severus had no such scruples. If people didn't want someone listening at the door, they had all manner of spells to block others from hearing, a few of which, at least, he would not be able to penetrate.

The Headmaster explained to the new arrivals how both the Drs. Granger and the Prime Minister had interpreted what they saw on the field that day, when a blackness arrived in the center of the field. Severus quirked his eyebrow.

"And where exactly does anyone think such a huge flock of starlings came from?" he asked, his tone making it clear that he was not entirely accepting that this explanation would work.

"Well," Albus began, still smiling, "I did suggest that the land in this area is riddled with caves and deep fissures. Possibly, a fissure opened up at some point on the field." He gestured with his hands, suggesting that something more could be interwoven with that.

Harry spoke at last. "We do know, of course, what caused that blackness: Black Wyrms materializing out of the ley lines."

Madam Bones gasped at that news.

"They have allied themselves with me, Madam Bones," Harry explained, "and thought this was a battle at which I needed their help. They realized very quickly that the muggles posed no threat, but said they had already killed a few. I called to them probably just a minute or two, if that, after they appeared, so they weren't on the field for long. But they were seen, and there are some deaths as a consequence of their being there."

Madam Bones remembered just a bit about Black Wyrms, from that disastrous interview Fudge had with Harry after Harry had returned from the Winter Lands last winter. Harry had mentioned them as the food source for dementors there, and she remembered that he regarded them as dragons. She had no idea about ley lines. She knit her brow.

"There are dragons here?" was her natural first question. Dragons were generally kept at a far distance from human settlements, for obvious reasons.

"Wyrms travel in ley lines in the earth," Harry explained. "They are pulses of magic in the ground, but can exit the ley lines and materialize on the ground at will. There are sigils all around Hogwarts, so lots of points from which they can exit. So, they can be anywhere, rather quickly, too. I gather there is some debate about whether they are or are not dragons, but they seem to regard themselves as dragons. And they speak Parseltongue, so I can speak to them."

"I didn't know that they had accepted my invitation to be my allies, nor that they were here, now. But apparently they are here, in the ground, watching." Harry repeated again his conversation with them.

"Well," Madam Bones said, with equal measures of relief and concern.

"Exactly," Severus agreed.

"I asked Harry and Severus to join us after the Prime Minister left, because I assumed that you might not want to share this information with the muggle Minister," Albus chimed in. "These allies of Harry's might be very helpful against magical attackers, especially if no one knows of them. That's why I jumped immediately on your observation about rough terrain here. I was so pleased to hear that the muggle observers seemed to agree rather quickly that this starling phenomenon explained what they saw, and fissures might explain both the appearance of the flock, and the disappearance of a few muggles. We need to go with that, I'm afraid. A bit of misdirection, but for the greater good."

X

The small group gathered in Riddle Manor was now smaller by one.

Hiram was describing the battle he had witnessed, as a supposed muggle leader of the anti-magic movement, to his Lord and the other Death Eaters in attendance. By his telling, it was an epic battle, and Adney had died with honor. All seemed to be listening raptly.

Lord Voldemort was listening, but perhaps less raptly than the others. He suspected that there was some embellishment of the story, but he had honed in on a fact that the others likely missed or did not appreciate, and thought it through carefully.

The description of the people who came out of Hogsmeade to defend against the muggle attack was the very first thing that caught his attention. Those were obviously not the locals. From Hiram's description, they sounded like Winter Lands warriors, the Vikings. That might not be surprising, given Potter's little adventure up there last winter, the one that cost Fudge the Protectorate and got so much press coverage. Then Voldemort recalled that the traitor Snape's sister was married to a Viking. It could be the family connection, then; that seemed most likely.

The second thing that sprang into Voldemort's mind was the fact that the Vikings, while extremely large and physically strong humans, were notoriously weak magically. He knew a bit about them, but had never considered them as potential allies. They were not as big as trolls or giants; if you were interested in beings with physical strength, you could do better. If they did not bring physical strength, their value was down to their magic, and that, too, was lacking. He saw no particular value to them in a battle, and it was curious that they participated here.

And why was that? Why did Potter or Dumbledore not send out strong witches and wizards to obliterate the muggle army trying to attack them? What did this tell him about their allies?

Voldemort hoped this meant that there were no particularly strong magical allies, but knew in his heart that was not the case. Dumbledore was always close with the Ministry of Magic, and even if he wasn't personally up to the task of gathering a magical army, surely someone at the Ministry could do it.

He thought bitterly on that for a minute. Back in the days when Snape and Malfoy were still loyal to him, this was the sort of thing they could resolve in a heartbeat. Snape's cunning mind could sort through details and inevitably discern the hidden patterns. And Malfoy's political connections enabled him to know what the Ministry of Magic was doing even before the Minister had been briefed. As he looked at his followers listening raptly to Hiram's story, he knew for a fact that he alone was pondering the implications behind the things being described. Yes, this group was loyal and enthusiastic, but dim.

With a silent but deep sigh, Voldemort abandoned that line of thought. So. For whatever reason, the Light did not put magic on the field to defend against the muggle attack on Hogsmeade. They used allies who could not use magic in battle, but who were strong enough to defeat an unorganized muggle mob with their physical strength. There was something here that did not make complete sense to him, but he had to admit, that was often the case when considering Dumbledore's approach to the world. Perhaps the old fool was just protecting his precious muggles again? That was as likely as it was appalling.

He allowed Hiram to finish his story before revealing his magnificent final plan, the one for the battle that would put an end to Dumbledore, the Ministry, and Potter, once and for all.

X

Harry nestled into Severus' warm embrace in their bed a few hours before dawn on New Year's Day. After the excitement of the afternoon's battle, the Headmaster had asked the house elves to prepare a celebratory dinner and then an evening for all to enjoy in the Great Hall to count down to the new year. It had been a very pleasant way to spend the evening, with all the families gathered together. The Weasley twins provided an amazing display of magical fireworks to welcome the new year. The students enjoyed butterbeers and pumpkin juice, and the adults some fine vintages from the Headmaster's private cellar. Harry had noticed that even Severus seemed to be enjoying himself after dinner. On second thought, though, he realized that he'd seen the Headmaster at dinner but could not recall seeing him after. His last thought as he drifted off to sleep was that he'd have to ask Severus about that in the morning.

Severus had forced his breath into a pattern that suggested that he was sleep, after he and Harry had enjoyed a very intimate New Year's celebration of their own before settling in for the night. His mind was racing, but he did not want to disturb Harry's rest.

He knew exactly what Albus had been up to all afternoon and evening, and he wasn't sure yet what to think of it, let alone how to share it all with Harry.

The Headmaster had proposed a dinner and evening celebration to detract attention from the dozens of aurors who had been coming and going all afternoon. Several teams of aurors had combed the field where the "battle" had occurred. Not surprisingly, the ground was just as solid as it had been for the last thousand years, and they were relieved to conclude that there were no injured but as yet unfound combatants, from either side. They then conducted a careful search for any items left behind, and that yielded a most interesting discovery. In addition to a quantity of muggle wallets and key chains, some boots and an astonishing quantity of muggle liquor bottles, half of a magical wand was found in the center of the field.

Before anyone could be dispatched to find Mr. Ollivander to identify the owner of the wand, Poppy Pomfrey had reported finding a wand carefully concealed in the clothing worn by the putative muggle with the smashed-in head. The Infirmary staff made a second (very thorough) search through the possessions of the muggles brought there for treatment, but that was the only magical item.

The aurors were lucky to reach Mr. Olivander just as he was about to leave his home to spend the evening with his daughter and her family. Always willing to help the Ministry, he accepted the wands they offered. He immediately recognized the complete wand; that belonged to Adney Higgs. This was not a surprise to the aurors, as Severus had identified him as a Death Eater when he saw his face in one of the muggle photos. It was assumed, and was now confirmed, that he was one of the "Riddle cousins" identified by the muggle authorities as being involved in the anti-magic movement.

The partial wand took the old wandmaker a few minutes to identify, but he was true to his boast that he remembered every wand he ever sold. He looked immensely puzzled as he fingered and sniffed the three inches of polished wood that ended with a clean break. "I sold this wand to Cornelius Fudge sixty years ago. Willow with mermaid scales, eight and three-quarter inches. Isn't he in Ministry custody? How did the wand get sawed apart like this? This is not a snapped wand – wands don't want to be snapped and there is always some evidence of the wand trying to remain whole. This wand has been cut."

The aurors had mumbled something official-sounding and reported immediately to Madam Bones. They had suspected that the Charles Frost known to the muggles was the missing former Minister of Magic, and now that had also been confirmed.

The Prime Minister paid a visit to Sir Harold Beckwith, accompanied by a very nervous-looking Deputy Chief Constable, standing in for the Chief Constable himself who was out of town. Entwhistle's report of the interviews that ensued made it clear that the Prime Minister was very right to suggest that he participate. Sir Harold was properly indignant at the announcement of visitors on the afternoon of New Year's Eve at his home, although he backed right down when he realized that one of his visitors was the Prime Minister himself. The Deputy Chief Constable was utterly cowed and quite useless, but between the Prime Minister and Entwhistle, appropriate questions were asked.

Severus himself had been asked to apparate to the Manor for an hour in the late afternoon, to use his skills as a Legilmens to secure information obscured to the muggles by the spells he and the others had cast around the field earlier. Entwhistle had identified three men in the group who he suspected had information they needed, although they could no longer recall it, and he had slipped a mild sleeping potion into the brandy that was poured for the men. Severus was able to probe their minds while they nodded in armchairs and on a leather sofa.

Severus quickly learned that Reginald Mason had witnessed the death of Adney Riddle when an errant boulder from a trebuchet landed on him. Mason wasn't sure what happened to Hiram Riddle. Severus knew that it was important to know if Hiram, who he assumed apparated away, did so before or after the Black Wyrms appeared. It took some effort, but finally Severus was able to determine that at least several minutes passed between Mason's realization that Adney had been killed, and his horror at seeing the Black Wyrms on the ground before him. From Severus' personal knowledge of Hiram, he would have been looking for a chance to get away as soon as there was a problem, and if Mason was absorbed in trying to report Adney's death, he wasn't watching him. Hiram was likely gone before the Wyrms appeared. Thus, it was not likely that anyone reported the appearance of Black Wyrms at the battle to the Dark Lord.

Severus looked into the mind of Sir Harold, but frankly found nothing of any interest there. The gentleman with the military bearing, identified by Entwhistle as "The Brigadier," was another story. He had been appalled at the conduct of the muggles during the battle, and his disgust was evident. Severus saw his plan to deploy several of the senior members of the anti-magic movement as observers, to feed information to him as the battle unfolded. He saw Mason and the two Death Eaters positioned on a low rise off to one side, and Fudge and Dursley on another rise opposite.

Severus had already learned that Mason had heard Dursley reply to his plea for help after Adney was killed, and he assumed Frost was with him. From Entwhistle's diagram of the battle, if those two were attempting to return to the Brigadier to leave the field (which seemed likely, from what he knew of them), they would have stepped right into the area where the Wyrms appeared. If Severus was a betting man, he would wager that the first two men killed by the Wyrms were Fudge and Dursley.

The local authorities began canvassing the muggles still in the area as they prepared to leave, and by early evening, there was a list of thirty missing battle participants, including the two Riddles, Frost and Dursley. Madam Pomfrey had treated or recovered the bodies of all but two of the others. The Wyrms had gotten two combatants as well as Frost and Dursley, before Harry called to them.

Madam Bones had set herself up in the Annex, and received reports from her own auror teams as well as the muggle authorities through the evening. Albus left the Annex only to kick off the festivities in the Great Hall and then he rejoined his old friend. Severus had reported in after his visit to the Manor, and had been there when the Prime Minister arrived. He left as the three leaders (for he regarded Dumbledore as just as important a leader in the wizarding world as the Minister of Magic) were discussing how this debacle would be revealed to the world, and to the families of those killed, on New Year's Day.

As Severus lay still beside a sleeping Harry, he knew in his heart, as surely as he knew his own name, that there was another battle coming, the one that would decide it all. At some point before dawn, Severus finally did join Harry in sleep, still not entirely sure how to share all this with the younger man.


	62. Ch 139 Saying Goodbyes

Chapter 139 – Saying Good-byes

Harry awoke right at 7 am. Early wakening was a habit he was starting to adopt from Severus, although he still woke slowly, not snapping completely awake the way his bondmate did. He was aware of cold air, although he himself was comfortably warm in bed. He remembered that the weather had begun to turn to the worse as the evening wore on, and based on the cold that had settled into the dungeon, it must have continued in that direction all night. No doubt, Severus had cast a warming charm before they fell asleep, or maybe he awoke in the cold earlier. Harry stilled and listened, then he wiggled a bit. No, he was alone in bed. Was Severus in the bathroom? Or had he awoken and gone to sit in the parlor until Harry awoke? It was completely silent in their rooms, it seemed. Harry was piecing together little bits of information in his mind, but was not yet sufficiently awake to draw conclusions or venture forth from the warm bed to check. It was several more minutes before Harry thought to use wandless magic to start a fire in the grate in their bedroom, to begin to take the chill out of the air before his bodily needs demanded that he get out of bed and visit the bathroom.

Harry was still waiting for his brain to reach full awareness when he did hear noise outside, in the sitting room. It sounded like a door closing, and shortly after, the bedroom door swung open and a tired, fully-dressed Severus slipped in.

He noticed the fire and looked quickly to Harry, who was still befuddled with sleep. "Sorry if I woke you, but you seem to be waking on your own. Did you sleep well?" he asked, knowing it had been just a few hours ago that they went to sleep.

"Ummm." That was the best Harry could do; his brain wasn't fully ready for conversation.

Severus looked longingly at the bed; a few more hours of sleep would feel so good. But years of experience had taught him that he was much better off staying awake once morning came rather than trying to go to sleep for just an hour or two. He'd feel worse. He nodded at Harry. "Get a bit more sleep then, and come out to the sitting room when you wake. The Ministry has been working all night to sort out that battle, and I suspect the Minister will provide an update shortly."

Severus settled in his chair by the fire, with a strong cup of coffee and the Daily Prophet. He'd been awakened a few hours ago, and asked to go to the muggle estate. He legilimized a few more muggles for the aurors, and adjusted the memories of a dozen more to support the version of this event that he expected would be made public today. He felt so guilty. He was certain that Harry's uncle had been killed, and yet he had still not told Harry. The young man would know soon enough, because it would be in the Minister's report, for sure. But Severus opted to allow Harry the morning, at least, unbothered by that development. Was it truly to give Harry that little bit extra time unaware, or because Severus did not want to have to deliver the news? Harry had said he had no feelings anymore for the man, one way or the other, but how would that stand up to an event like this? He brooded while he read.

Harry dozed briefly after hearing Severus' voice, the nagging realization that there was news of developments waiting when he awoke preventing him from falling fully into sleep again. Eventually, Harry gave into curiosity and deserted his bed.

Severus heard the shower turn off and nodded to the house elf loitering in the corner to bring their breakfast. It arrived just a moment before Harry did, fresh from his wake-up shower.

"Morning," he offered, as he settled into his place on the couch, arching his back in a stretch. He accepted a cup of coffee from Severus. "So what happened last night? When did you leave?"

"I was summoned to assist several hours ago, and I arrived back here just as you were awakening. My role is just a part of a much bigger story. I've ordered breakfast here, and when we are finished, we can go to the Ministry Annex for your briefing. Albus will join us, but he doesn't want to usurp the Minister's role here."

Harry quirked his eyebrow as he joined Severus in moving to the table where a nice spread had just appeared, and he piled his plate with a selection of items. This Minister seemed very open in her interest in the Headmaster's opinion and not offended, as Fudge had been, when he offered a thought. Perhaps Professor Dumbledore wanted to keep it that way?

"My briefing?" he asked, wondering if he was right.

"This does allow the Headmaster to be part of the Minister's planning without opening her to criticism that she is simply Albus' puppet. Apparently, there is some grumbling among some of Fudge's old network that she is not up to the task and relies too much on outside advisors, presumably the Headmaster. The involvement of the Winter Lands Warriors makes this an event of interest specifically to you, and Albus' participation need not even be noted."

Harry shrugged as he tucked into his food. The nonsense that went on at the Ministry – he could not imagine why anyone would want to be Minister.

There was a steady stream of students and families wandering through the vestibule in front of the Great Hall all morning; the house elves served breakfast to the resolute early risers at the usual time, but kept food available all morning to those who slept in after a late night. Only someone who looked carefully would notice that there were far more aurors among the crowd than usual, coming and going from the Ministry Annex (and its floo connection back to the Ministry itself in London) and the investigation headquarters set up in an unused barn not far from Sir Harold's estate. No one gave a second thought to the Headmaster strolling through the hall and meeting up with Harry and Severus just as they arrived at the Annex door.

Kingsley Shacklebolt looked up from his desk when the three entered, and stood to greet them.

"Good morning to you all," he said with a slight bow of his head. "The Minister will be here momentarily. What a morning, what a morning! What a night, actually. It's been a full time job just to keep up with the developments. We'll have a full report as soon as Minister Bones arrives."

Before the three could take their seats around a table, green flames flared in the floo, and the Minister of Magic stepped through, followed seconds later by aurors Stark and Entwhistle.

Greetings were exchanged before the Minister pointed everyone to the seats so her briefing could begin. Stark took the lead there, with assistance from his junior colleague.

"Well, ma'am, sirs, we spent most of yesterday and last night coordinating with the local muggle police to interview everyone who we could find in the area who was at the battle, or as the muggles now call it, the "exercise." The muggles began to take the field between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade early yesterday morning, but the fighting commenced just about noon. They all quit the field in hysteria about an hour later. The weather was getting bad, and the retreat was very disorderly. As a result, many of them just got back to the big muggle estate as it was getting dark; lucky for us, because only a few of the muggles were able to leave the area before we could interview them. We were also able to get our aurors onto the field fast enough to detect some magic that was done there – it turns out that not all of the muggles were really muggles. We detected the signatures of two separate apparitions, although in one case, I'd call it an attempt to apparate."

Entwhistle consulted a sheaf of parchments. "Based on our interviews and the information provided by Madam Pomfrey and the Hogwarts infirmary, it appears that there were a total of nine deaths. Adney Riddle, known to us as Adney Pucey, died when his head was crushed by a boulder, an errant shot from one of the muggle trebuchets. There were four muggles whose hearts stopped during the battle and our magical healers could not revive them in the Infirmary. Charles Frost, one of the leaders of the anti-magic movement, known to us as Cornelius Fudge, might have been swallowed by the Black Wyrms. We recovered his wand at the scene and there was some blood and a very slight signature of apparition at that spot; under the circumstances, we concluded that his apparition attempt was not entirely successful. In all likelihood, he was either swallowed before he could apparate, or he splinched as he apparated. He was in the company of Vernon Dursley, a muggle leader of the movement, also believed swallowed. Finally, we concluded that muggles Chester Willoughsby and Mark Digby were similarly swallowed."

Harry felt his chest constrict. He was aware of every breath he was taking, and felt his breath speed up. More dead to account for, but this was different. Uncle Vernon was dead. Cornelius Fudge was dead. Plus a Death Eater, who found his way back to Voldemort of his own free will, after Harry had removed the means by which Voldemort could compel compliance. Of course the muggles were still victims, and Harry was pained at their deaths, as always. He sat stone-faced for a minute before realizing that all conversation had ceased around him. When he stirred to look at the others, he blushed to realize they were all looking at him with expressions of concern.

"I'm fine, sorry for disrupting the briefing," Harry began, his voice unsure and near to breaking. "It's just, well, there were three people who represented a threat to me personally, and you've just told me that two of them are gone. Just like that."

The two aurors seemed rather confused by that statement, but held their tongues at the reaction of Professor Snape.

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder, squeezing subtly so it was unlikely that the others could tell that he was being comforted. He turned and looked at the older man, hoping to draw strength to control his emotions from someone who had mastered that skill. Holding Severus' gaze, he breathed in and out, slowly, until he felt steadier. He nodded at his bondmate, and Severus slowly withdrew his hand.

"Thank you for that report, Auror Stark, Auror Entwhistle. Are we publicizing the involvement of the Black Wyrms? I thought we were not going to mention them." Harry tried to move the briefing along, to deflect attention from his emotions.

"No, sir, the involvement of the Black Wyrms is known to just the people in this room. We are not putting that in any written reports, but wanted to give this group all the information we had." Stark still shuddered at his memory of his briefing with the Minister, learning that there were dragons in the ground right here at Hogwarts. "We spent the hours before dawn positioning the injured we had brought to the Infirmary, and the four muggles who died of heart problems, closer to the muggle estate. The ones alive now have appropriate, if very vague, memories of running from the field, thanks to Professor Snape. One of our muggle-born aurors is with them, to make sure they are safe until they can be rescued. We located them in a barn on a property near to the muggle estate, and if no one finds them he's going to bring them to the estate himself."

Harry cast a grateful glance at Severus, glad to hear that he contributed to this resolution.

"We decided not to turn over the body of Adney Pucey," Stark continued. "No muggle is going to miss him, and no one will recall what happened to him. He had been with Hiram McNair and one of the leaders of the anti-magic movement when he was killed by the boulder. We believe McNair simply apparated away; there was a definite signature of apparition right near the body when we recovered it. Mr. Mason, the muggle with whom Pucey and McNair were standing when the battle began, now has a vague memory of both men running away when the battle began." Stark nodded at Severus, a calculating grin on his face. That had been Snape's idea.

There were nods all around at that news. There were many unknowns in this situation, but in the event that the anti-magic movement survived, and in the event that Death Eaters saw something to be gained by infiltrating it, at least McNair would not be welcomed back.

"But didn't the Prime Minister see the Black Wyrms himself, from the castle? He thought they were a flock of birds, didn't he?" Harry was still concerned that this was not as airtight a story as they might have hoped.

Severus spoke at that point. "I took a portkey to the Ministry of Magic very early this morning, and visited the Prime Minister with Minister Bones," he began, with a nod to the woman. "Those particular memories no longer exist. He recalls just a disorganized battle that evolved into a panicked retreat."

Madam Bones added, "We do not want to create panic among students and parents with any suggestion that the land here is unstable. We will stand by the story among those with magic that a flock of birds seemed to appear in the midst of the muggles and, flying in close unison, a phenomenon the muggles call a "murmuration," frightened them terribly and they quit the field. Anyone familiar with the land here knows how rugged the terrain is, and will likely assume they flew up from one of the gorges and took the muggles by surprise."

Harry's mind was still on the dead. They never seemed to leave him.

"And how are you going to explain the dead of whom there is nothing left?" he asked the group.

Severus looked like he'd swallowed something that tasted unpleasant. Damn the boy for his focus on the dead! The fact that there were so few fatalities in an attack like this, with the kinds of weaponry involved, was an astonishing outcome. Why did Harry persist in his concern about the few combatants, his opponents, for Merlin's sake, who did not survive?

The Minister responded.

"Well, yes, Mr. Potter, that will require some effort. We have, or more accurately, Professor Snape has, planted memories of a very disorganized retreat, and of several participants leaving their comrades to follow roads and open fields in a different direction. Our aurors have suggested to the muggle police that a few of them wandered too close to the edge of a particularly deep gorge, the edge of which was concealed by blowing snow. Our aurors reported that they believe four men stumbled over the edge and fell to the bottom, falls that could not be survived. We informed the muggles that there is running water at the bottom of the gorge, so the bodies are not likely to be where they landed, but we are looking."

Entwhistle continued. "We have people back at the Ministry right now, transfiguring slabs of meat into carcasses that will pass as the battered and waterlogged bodies of the four missing men, and will add enough magic to get the bodies processed through the muggle's forensic process to get death certificates. Not pretty, but there will be "bodies" in sealed coffins available to be buried. Cornelius Fudge is a problem, as always, because too many muggles remember him as Charles Frost, from the rallies and news reports. Professor Snape created a memory in Mr. Mason that Frost had shared that he was a bachelor and did not have close family. We have to create muggle records of Charles Frost, because, of course, there is no real Charles Frost. We'll get him a proper death certificate from the muggles and have one of our aurors claim the body posing as a distant relative, to close the muggle's paperwork record of the man." Entwhistle wasn't as informed as his seniors' of Harry's personal situation, so he went on. "Dursley has a wife and son, and Sir Harold has advised that he will accompany a local constable today to visit the wife to inform her of what happened. Willoughsby was the town drunk in the village not too far Sir Harold's estate. No family to speak of. In all likelihood, he tagged along with someone who offered him a drink. Sir Harold has offered to provide a proper burial for the body, as the muggles do not expect anyone to claim it. Mark Digby is from Nottingham, and the muggle police are looking for family. Again, if no one claims the body, or if the family lacks the means to bury it, Sir Harold will assist."

Harry had gone very quiet. With a look of sad sympathy at Harry, Albus observed, "Sir Harold seems to be quite the benefactor here."

Amelia nodded. "I don't think he faces any civil or criminal liability for any of this, but he feels morally obligated to do something. He was a "right old fool," the term used by the Prime Minister to describe him to me, and perhaps he feels that himself."

After the Minister and her staff had left, Harry finally spoke to Severus. "I don't know if my aunt has the money to bury her husband. If there is need, I will provide it."

Severus shook his head sadly. "If ever there was someone who did not deserve your help, Harry, that man would be him."

"It's not about what he deserved. I know that. But if I can help my aunt, I will."

Petunia had spent a quiet New Year's Eve. Dudley was spending the weekend with a friend from school, and Marge, having left a few days earlier in a snit at Vernon's early departure, was not coming for New Year's Eve.

Vernon had called her earlier in the day, quite excited that there would be "a charge" later that day. She was quite confident in the school's ability to protect itself and the little town against Vernon and his friends, so she was not concerned about that. She had hoped he'd be able to get home by early evening, if the nonsense in Scotland ended quickly and Sir Harold made his helicopter available, but then she saw the weather reports on the midday news. Storms had formed up north that were starting to dump significant amounts of snow on the ground, and making travel impossible. In all likelihood, Vernon was snowbound at Sir Harold's estate, with even helicopters grounded until the weather improved. When no call came from him as night fell, she imagined that the bad weather had knocked out telephone lines as well.

Several neighbors were gathering at the Cavendishes that evening, so she slipped across the street alone to join the wait for the new year, making sure that all were aware that her Vernon was snowed in up at Sir Harold Beckwith's estate in Scotland. Typical for Little Whinging New Year's Eve gatherings, she was home and in bed by half-past midnight.

She was just finishing her breakfast dishes when the doorbell signaled that she had visitors. A peek through the window as she got to the door provided the curious sight of a massive luxury vehicle, like the one that had collected Vernon for one of his trips to Scotland. Sir Harold's?

Petunia admitted her visitors, a nervous-looking gentleman from the local constable's office, and a man she recognized from the telly as Sir Harold himself. They declined her offer of tea and awkwardly took seats in the lounge.

"Mrs. Dursley," Sir Harold began, "I'm afraid we've very bad news. There was an accident of sorts up in Scotland. Our people took the field for one of our drills, and apparently a flock of birds appeared out of a gully without warning, creating a panic. It was bedlam as everyone ran from the field; Vernon was with a small group that ventured too close to the edge of one of the deep gorges, and the four of them fell into it. There is a stream of rushing water at the bottom, so we dispatched a team at first light to look for the bodies. I most sincerely regret to inform you that we just received confirmation that your husband's body has been recovered. I have arranged for the remains to be placed in a sealed casket, as the damage from the fall was most extensive; you and your family should treasure your memories of Vernon as he looked before this calamity."

Petunia gasped in shock, and huddled into herself on the couch as tears formed in her eyes. The constable retreated to the kitchen, to fix the distraught woman a cup of tea, leaving Sir Harold to continue to try to calm her. He sat uncomfortably, watching her try to get control of her emotions. When she continued to seem incapable of speech, he offered, "I've contacted one of my personal secretaries who lives in the London area, and she's going to come by to assist you later this morning. She'll be able to help with arrangements, contacting people, legalities. Miss Catherine Smythe-Jones, very capable young lady. I'm sure she'll be able to be of great assistance to you."

Sir Harold looked around the lounge as he continued to wait on his hostess to compose herself. He had very little contact with people outside of his social strata, and could not remember ever being in such a modest home. He wondered if Mrs. Dursley could manage the expense of arranging a funeral; he'd contact Miss Smythe-Jones as soon as he'd left to authorize her to pay the cost of the funeral from his funds.

The constable offered a rather badly brewed cup of tea, which Petunia accepted numbly and discovered she couldn't drink because her hands were shaking. She allowed him to put it on the coffee table for her.

The two men were each contemplating how to extricate themselves from the Dursley home when salvation arrived in the form of Miss Smythe-Jones, a stylish and exceedingly competent woman in her late 30s who had worked for Sir Harold since she left university. She lived on the south side of London and was able to get to Little Whinging faster than expected. She soothed the new widow, moved her out to the sun room with a fresh cup of tea, and met briefly with her employer for instructions. She then began the process of making telephone calls and arrangements.

By the end of the day, Miss Smythe-Jones had at least left messages for all who needed to be contacted, and set appointments for Petunia the next day to arrange the funeral and meet with her solicitor. The son, Dudley, was on his way home, and sister Marge would arrive tomorrow afternoon. One of Sir Harold's men had called her to advise that the paperwork had been completed and Vernon's casket would be shipped down from Scotland and should arrive at the funeral home the day after. Miss Smythe-Jones herself took a room at the Whinging Hotel, rather than use a posher but more distant establishment, so she could shepherd Petunia through the necessary activities tomorrow. The poor thing looked quite lost, and latched on to her immediately.

X

Thurston Landon sat moodily behind his large desk, in a massive office, in the sprawling executive offices perched above the huge Landon Enterprises warehouse. He'd been asked to attend a meeting of the directors of the firm this morning. The directors never met on New Year's Day, so this was a bit of a surprise.

He had not seen this coming. Of course not – the firm had just had its best year in its history! And it was all his doing! He'd seen the opportunity with Lord Black and encouraged him to represent the firm up in the Winter Lands, and that gave Landon Enterprises a front-row seat to the remarkable changes that occurred up there, and immediate access to the sudden flood of products suddenly available from the north. Alright, he had not secured a contract as the sole distributor of Winter Lands potions ingredients to the rest of the wizarding world, but that might have been a stretch. And his petition for citizenship had been denied, but then, no one else he knew of had been granted citizenship, either.

Chairman Emeritus! What an insult! Had his blasted son plotted this behind his back? Had Eustace's decision to remain closer to home this past year really been because he and Margaret were going to start a family, or had he wanted to get closer to the others who had interests in Landon Enterprises, to plot a coup? Force the old man out to pasture, so the arrogant young whelp could take the reins of the firm?

He seethed for at least an hour, furious. After a while, and after several glasses of whiskey, he began to calm down.

He still had his office; he liked that. It was the biggest room in the building. He'd made sure of that when he'd had the executive suite constructed many years ago. Maybe the title wasn't too shabby. And of course, Eustace had said he'd consult with his father, who had such extensive experience, as he assumed the role of Chairman. The financial arrangements were completely satisfactory, although in truth, Thurston had ample personal resources aside from the business. He could have maintained his standard of living even if his ties with the firm had been severed completely.

The experience of being pushed aside was not pleasant, and Thurston imagined it would be a long while before he could forgive his son and his two younger brothers. Business was his life, had been for years. He stared out the window for a while, watching the dark clouds gather and a mixture of snow and rain start to fall. A few ideas began to percolate in his mind, other ventures that were never right for Landon Enterprises so he had not pursued them. Maybe he'd look into those.

X

Harry had allowed Severus to steer him back to their rooms in the dungeon after the early meeting with the Minister. Only when Severus was sure that Harry was being truthful in his insistence that he was fine and not upset over the news about his uncle was Severus willing to release him to join his friends in the Gryffindor common room.

The room was rather crowded, what with a full complement of Weasleys, an assortment of visitors from other houses, and extended families of current students who opted to gather in the cozy room rather than the Great Hall. Harry spotted Hermione right off, but before he could get near her, he was intercepted by Neville and Pharaoh Nitrocris, who looked very serious. Something had been going on there all during the holiday, Harry recalled noticing, and he'd meant to ask, so he allowed himself to be herded off to a corner of the common room to speak to them.

Neville cut right to the chase. "Harry, Nitrocris and I plan to be married as soon as I leave school, at the end of this year."

Harry was a bit taken aback, to say the least. "That's great, guys, great. What does your Gran think of this, Neville? And, Nitrocris, is there an issue with you marrying someone who isn't Egyptian?"

Nitrocris huffed. "I have introduced many reforms in Egypt since last we met, Harry Potter. But I recently learned that many of my subjects are ignoring these new ways of doing things. There is a perception, at least, that I am not serious, and that what I am doing now is temporary. I was able to isolate my uncles and their families, but they have allies. Maybe not people allied to them personally, but to the way things used to be. Over the past few months, much has been made of the fact that I am unmarried and childless, and many of the reforms and programs I have introduced are foundering because this is a distraction. I have worked so hard to move my country forward, and it pains me greatly to see progress halted, Harry Potter. Now, there is a great deal of pressure for me to marry one of my younger cousins, a boy only seven years old. His father will step in to rule, and I'd be worse off than where I was before the demon killed my oldest uncle and cousin! And I will not stand for it."

She took a breath before adding, "I actually asked Neville to father a child with me. I realize that he has a life here in England, family and friends, and probably does not want to leave. Marriage was his idea."

Harry looked stunned. "I can see why you'd want to keep Egypt moving forward. But is this the right thing for you? Are you being pressured into doing something you really don't want to do, just to address this one challenge? I mean, you and Neville might well want to marry someday, but perhaps right now isn't the right time – is there anything we can do to allow you to act on your schedule?"

"Your Headmaster said as much to me a year ago. To follow my heart and mind, choose my own path, and not let anyone or anything else dictate my actions. My heart and mind tell me that my future is with Neville Longbottom, not one of my little cousins. And now is as good a time as any."

This all seemed to be a one-sided story; where did Neville stand on the matter? There did not seem to be any polite way to ask, under the circumstances.

Neville himself seemed to know what Harry was thinking, and he finally chimed in. "I told Nitrocris that I love her and would love to marry her, as soon as I leave school in June. My gram is not thrilled that I plan to marry so soon after leaving school, and is worried about what my life will be like, but she understands. She'll give her blessing."

Harry looked at the two of them. There was something nagging him, a thought in the back of his mind that was not coming forward. "Well, I'm hardly one to speak against marrying too young, am I? It seems to be working out well for me, and I see no reason it won't work just as well for you. Neville, you did such a great job with helping the Winter Lands and their farms, and you've been great in the greenhouses, I'm sure you'll contribute great things in Egypt." The image of Neville travelling, and sand, suddenly returned to his mind – Neville's destiny!

"You know, Neville, when I first learned that I could see paths or destinies before people, I sometimes tried to see paths of people I knew. I saw a path before you, and couldn't figure out what it meant. I saw you moving over distance, and I'm sure I saw sand. I assumed it meant that you'd travel. Maybe you'd have a business sourcing potions ingredients from exotic places or something. I am no good at figuring out what the paths mean, so I sort of abandoned that exercise. But now I do see a connection between your plans with Nitrocris and what I saw of your destiny."

Surprisingly, Neville did react in any way by what Harry said; he already knew in his heart that this was right for him. Nitrocris was thrilled with the news, though. She knew what was right for her, and was relieved to learn that it was right for Neville, too.

"You will come, Harry Potter, and Professor Snape, too, when we wed?" Nitrocris asked.

"Wouldn't miss it!" Harry assured her, as he punched Neville in the arm with a smile.

As Harry wished them a Happy New Year, Nitrocris took his hands in hers. "Harry Potter, Neville has told me what you expect to occur in the future. There is to be another battle." Harry was a bit surprised that Neville would share that information with someone, but when he considered the relationship between Neville and Nitrocris, perhaps he ought not be surprised. He was pleased also that she accepted this foreknowledge without all sorts of gyrations about its source, which seemed to be the way British wizards handled that sort of thing. What she said next really astonished him. "You fight not for yourself, but for all of us. I am your ally and will come to England to help you when the time comes. I will bring others if you wish. Egyptian magic is protective. We have an affinity with minerals, stones, and can keep them strong. I understand your love of this castle and am committed to protecting it, as you are. Send word to me when the time comes and I will be here."

Harry was finally able to get to Hermione, who was perched on a chair at the fringe of the Weasley crowd. He shared his news of his uncle's demise; Neville's news was for Neville to share when he felt it was time to do so.

Not surprisingly, Hermione understood, and immediately gave voice to what Harry was pretty sure others were thinking. "You said you felt nothing for him, before, Harry. I imagine you do feel a bit sad for your aunt, and maybe your cousin, but you don't seem upset. You are really OK?" she sought to confirm. She accepted Harry's nod in answer, and just squeezed his hand. The two of them turned their attention to Little Harry, gurgling happily from a perch at the end of his father's knee.

X

Voldemort had tasked each of his Death Eaters with very specific assignments. His grand plan had been greeted with much enthusiasm, but he knew that this bunch needed clear instructions if anything was to happen.

It was not yet time to do anything that would reveal his plans to others, but there was opportunity now to take advantage of what the fool muggles had done. He already had his Death Eaters on the field outside Hogsmeade casting disillusionment charms on the siege engines; in the hands of trained wizards and magical creatures, those weapons could inflict harm. And at the proper time, they would do so. He assumed for now that the wizards and muggle authorities would think that the muggles simply retrieved their machines and moved them away, and would not notice or be concerned about the apparent disappearances. Certainly in his time, no students went into those fields, and he assumed that remained the case, so he was confident that this would not be discovered by accident.

He also had Death Eaters looking for a suitable area somewhere on the moors, for all aligned with him to gather, when the time was right. Witches and wizards might be able to apparate to Hogwarts instantly over distances, but they were actually just a part of the magical army he had been able to piece together, and not all of the creatures were capable of that sort of transport. He needed a place from which others could travel by whatever means they used, and arrive at Hogwarts within no more than a day. He'd given that team some rather specific instructions and areas in which to look, and he would personally inspect the recommended land before any actual preparations began.

The battle that would resolve this matter, once and for all, would be epic, and remembered for millennia. Voldemort was not concerned about the outcome – he knew he would prevail. His concern now was that it be staged for maximum impact and remembered for all the right things. Just as winter ebbed, he thought. After the threat of major snowstorms, but before a thaw made everything soggy.

[A/N – Many thanks to all of you still following along, and very especially to those of you who take the time to offer a comment or review. Nothing gets me more excited than finding a new review! I'm sorry for the delay in getting the update finished, but the real world hasn't been kind these last few months. I will soldier on, hopefully at a faster pace, and I think I'm coming to the end of my story, probably a handful of chapters left. Have a safe and happy Fall, everyone.]


	63. Ch 140 Miscommunications

Chapter 140 - Miscommunications

Petunia had finally bid the last of her guests "goodbye" and poured herself another glass of wine before taking her seat again in the chair closest to the window. She couldn't taste the wine, of course, but it took the edge off her emotions, and she hoped she would finally be able to sleep tonight.

The services had been very nice. The lovely lady from Sir Harold's office had been a God-send, as she really took care of everything. And it was perfect. Even Marge had nothing to find fault with, for once.

Dudders was the perfect young gentleman, greeting guests, looking after her, the way her Vernon had once done. That thought brought forth a fresh flood of tears. Her poor darling boy, now left to grow to manhood without his wonderful father as his role-model! Of course, Dudders had chatted with Sir Harold, and some of the men who'd attended with him, and no doubt made an excellent impression.

Actually, the fact that Sir Harold Beckwith, himself, had been at the funeral services and was seen sitting with the family made quite the impression on her neighbors, she was sure. She made certain that the Cavendishes were introduced to the man, as between the two of them, word was sure to get through the immediate neighborhood, the Garden Club, church, and the business community in Little Whinging.

Business community – hah! No community there! Again, Miss Smythe-Jones had been an absolute rock. The person from Grunnings who called her back had actually tried to stop payment on the bonus check Vernon had deposited into their joint account before heading north. Then there were other issues about Vernon's insurance, and his pension account. They would have left her penniless, if they had their way. Fortunately, Miss Smythe-Jones' liberal use of Sir Harold's name, and a further call from Sir Harold's solicitors, had smoothed all the problems. At least now there was adequate money for Dudders to finish school, and she'd be comfortable, albeit in somewhat limited circumstances.

Oh, Marge had sniffed about, too. Something about money left by the Dursley parents to their two children many years back, that she felt should come to her now. The old cow! The solicitor got all that straightened right out, too, and Marge left in a huff again.

Petunia sobbed softly into a handkerchief as she contemplated life without her Vernon. She never noticed the owl who landed on her front porch and dropped a thick vellum envelope through the mail slot before taking wing.

Petunia noticed the envelope the next morning, when she went to collect the newspaper. It was frigid out there – she actually took the time to put on her coat, as it was too cold to just slip out for a second in her wrapper. She recognized the handwriting on the vellum as that of Amaranth Savoy. Petunia was surprised to realize that she was actually more interested in opening the letter than looking at the newspaper. She usually looked through the Society pages, while Vernon read the news of the day and sports, unless Dudders was at home, in which case, he got the sports pages first. The newspaper sat unopened as she gently opened the thick envelope and extracted the parchment it contained.

To Petunia's surprise, Amaranth knew of her Vernon's passing – someone at the Ministry had mentioned it to her husband - and in gentle if somewhat oblique terms, she expressed sympathy to her friend. Vernon had been a little bit rude to Amaranth when they met at Hogwarts; not as bad as he'd been with some, but it was no doubt a struggle for Amaranth to come up with any fond memories of the man. But she tried, and reached out to her friend to express concern for her and her family at a sad time. Petunia let her tea get cold as she read and re-read the letter several times, relishing the concern of another human being set forth in such an open and honest way.

That feeling of honesty had been sorely missing from the visits and rites that had just concluded. What did Sir Harold or the Grunnings chairman know of Vernon, or her? They did not really care. Nor, she suspected, did the other Grunnings employees (except perhaps that simpering spinster Miss Enderlee – Petunia did not want to think about that), nor the neighbors, nor the ladies from the Garden Club. It was a social event for them, made all the more interesting by the presence of a couple of community leaders there for their own personal reasons, not for her and not for Vernon. And Vicar Bradley, as kind as he had been, delivered a sincere but generic eulogy. Petunia had not felt that anyone was there sincerely out of concern for her, and reading Amaranth's note, she realized the lack most clearly.

X

Things at Hogwarts were almost back to normal as the new year began. Cold weather as cold as anyone could remember settled in with the storm on New Year's Eve day, and it stayed that way through February. The castle was cold and drafty as usual, and the house elves were kept busy keeping the tents that housed the families staying on at the castle charmed and cozy in the frigid weather.

The aurors and others from the Ministry departed within days of classes resuming. The field where the battle had been fought was quickly covered with a pristine blanket of white snow, and it was not possible to imagine that a battle had occurred there just days before. Students who had left for the holidays were back, and some of the guests in the castle departed for their own homes. Classes resumed, and the world went on.

The ravens still visited Harry every day right before lunch. Of course, Professor Dumbledore had noticed the magic that concealed the siege engines on the field almost as soon as it was cast, and the ravens confirmed that the concealment was part of the grand plan for the next battle. The images were still blurry, a sign that specific details were likely not yet clear even to Voldemort, but Harry initially managed the daily visits well. Most of the images were of a place not right near Hogwarts, which was itself a relief. It looked remote and windswept, cold and barren.

At Severus' request, he and Harry now practiced dueling twice a week at least, more if their schedules permitted. Harry was happy with that, as he missed the physical activity he got with Quidditch and flying, curtailed in the cold winter months. Harry enjoyed the time with Severus and the intimacy of the contact they had while Severus taught him new moves. Harry had a good amount of natural athletic ability and was able to keep up, even if his technique was nowhere near as polished as Severus'.

If Severus' was experiencing his own insights, he was not sharing anything with Harry, who assumed that silence meant no visions.

Severus himself was curious about the lack of new awareness or revelations. He decided to practice the meditations he has once used with his occlumency training, to see if that triggered anything, but he felt just as he had before. He'd known all along, after all, that the third battle was the one that would count, and that was the one in which Harry played a part. Beyond that, nothing had changed.

The general quiet in January did allow Severus to resume some of his personal brewing and experimentation, which he had reluctantly set aside some months ago. He frequently lost himself for hours in the evenings in his personal lab, and Harry would either join him to work at his own desk on his school work, or spend the time with his friends in the Gryffindor common room.

Harry was surprised that Neville did not share his rather momentous plans with anyone else, but of course, Hermione suspected. For once, she restrained herself from asking questions. She had her own studies, and her work to finalize the paper she was submitting for publication. Her dogged persistence in going through dusty old files in the Ministry archives had finally paid off with a few documented historical cases that supported her theory. Of course, Severus' story would have been a much more noteworthy proof, but she got what the editor felt was necessary, so it all worked out.

Events outside of Hogwarts did not remain on an even keel for very long, however. Diagon Alley hung in, but foot traffic was much less than it would normally be. Most blamed the unusually cold weather on their sudden preference for conducting their business via owl, but in truth, people were scared. Back in Little Hangleton, Lord Voldemort had refocused his minions on harassing witches and wizards rather than muggles. Oh, it had been fun to watch the Ministry trip all over itself to placate the whining muggles, but ultimately, it was just an annoyance and a distraction to the Ministry, not something that actually brought them up short. No, it was now time to focus, and that had to be on those with magic.

The initial attacks were not fully understood by the Light. More random attacks? Accidents? There were any number of theories, so Voldemort decided he had to make it completely clear that he and his Dark allies were behind it. The attacks were brutal, usually fatal, and focused on those allied with the Ministry and the Light. Homes were not just burned to the ground; they exploded. Individuals were not kidnapped; entire families disappeared, perhaps to be found soon thereafter all brutally slain. It did not take the Ministry long to appreciate that its workers in particular were under attack, and it began offering accommodations to workers to remain behind the wards there overnight. Those fortunate enough to live in heavily warded homes felt safe staying there, but that basically meant that everyone who lived in a place other than a few of the old city homes in London, and the estates in High Hill County was looking for alternative accommodations. The population at Hogwarts swelled once again as families of students and Ministry workers huddled in behind the wards.

One unfortunate outcome of such large numbers of people stuck for an extended time in a freezing cold castle was the overwhelming smell of wet woolens that seemed to cling to the stones themselves. By mid-February, people were setting large fires in the fireplaces in their rooms to disguise the fact that they opened the windows to get some fresh, if freezing, air. The need for fresh air was accompanied by a strong desire to just get outside. A Hogsmeade weekend had even been organized through the tunnels that linked the castle to the town, because it was too cold to walk there, but people really wanted to spend some time out of the crowded castle.

Harry's visits from the ravens also became more troublesome as the winter progressed. The visions they provided grew dark, of somewhere with almost no light. And they presented what seemed to be the same vision day after day, with screeches and caws that did not explain anything. Harry had suffered through this vagueness before Voldemort cast his spell, and he was hoping greater diligence on his part might enable him to decode the message in time to take some sort of meaningful action. Every vision was shared with Severus as it unfolded, and duly reported to the Headmaster, but the sameness of the visions had reached the point that the Headmaster suggested to Severus that he bring Harry up to discuss only those visions that differed from prior visions.

Harry finally shared his frustration with Hermione over lunch one day, when she gently questioned his growing bad mood.

"It's not you, Mione. I'm getting frustrated with the ravens," he explained quietly. "They bring me these visions, and Severus is great, he helps me be sure I'm looking at everything and all, but nothing is ever different. Even the Headmaster has suggested, not quite in these words, of course, that we not bother him with more of the same, just come by when something changes."

Hermione seemed puzzled. "These are Odin's familiars, and their intelligence made him invincible in battle. They can't have lost their touch. They were right, sort of, about Voldemort's plans when they were bringing you messages before he cast the spell. The visions they bring you must mean something!"

"Right, but what? And how can we figure out what they mean? The Headmaster is clearly done with them, until there is something more obvious."

Hermione noticed that Ron and Neville had quieted and were listening, as was Draco. She looked at the others with a look that promised very bad things indeed if they spoke against what she was going to propose. "Why don't the four of us meet with Harry to deconstruct these visions, and keep records so we can help him identify any changes? We could do it in the evening, maybe in an unused classroom or even the Room of Requirement. No one else knows about this, so we have to keep it quiet, so we really can't do this in a common room, or even the library."

Ron nodded immediately. Neville and Draco had always been on the periphery of the goings on with Harry, Ron and Hermione, and were each very flattered to be included now. Somewhat more slowly, they nodded their agreement.

Thus began nightly meetings at eight o'clock at the kitchen table in Severus' and Harry's quarters. Harry proposed that as one of the most private spaces available, where notes and such could be stored without fear of discovery. The first meeting set the pattern. Harry would report exactly what he and Severus had teased from his visions at mid-day, and Hermione or Draco made their usual careful notes on the top of a large sheet of parchment. There would be a discussion of what it might mean, what might be different from the prior day. Questions might be posed to Harry, but he and Severus did a very complete job of experiencing and remembering the visions as they came to Harry and there was almost never anything to add to what had already been shared.

This went on for several days, at which point Ron was beginning to think the Headmaster had the right idea. Hermione remained convinced that the ravens had been Odin's and they were the key to very significant intelligence in the battle to come, and she wasn't giving up. Finally, it was Neville who posed the question that changed everything.

"OK, Harry, so you can't see anything – it's all pitch black wherever the ravens are showing you. Can you smell anything? Or hear anything, apart from the ravens cawing at you?"

Harry stared at Neville in surprise. "I hadn't thought of that. A couple of weeks ago, I was seeing visions of remote land, very desolate, and then it suddenly went dark. I have heard things in visions before, not just the ravens, but nothing has been loud enough to drown them out lately. I can try to listen harder, and smell? I don't think that's been part of anything before, but I can pay closer attention."

Neville nodded seriously, and offered some advice. "You said this was somewhere remote. Can you smell the ocean? Or maybe a brackish pond? Or maybe it's a farm, so perhaps you can smell the land. Maybe there's a forest nearby, so the smell of rotting leaves? Are there people or animals about, maybe you can smell them. Are there any animal noises – bullfrogs? Small animals scurrying? Farm animals?"

To Severus' surprise, thereafter, Harry would complete discussing the visions with him, but remain connected to the vision for several minutes after they stopped speaking. He was sniffing mightily, and listening as best he could.

"Mr. Potter, I would remind you that these are called 'visions' for a reason – they are visual messages. It is unlikely that there are scents and sounds accompanying them," he'd argued, when Harry explained the few extra minutes he was spending.

"Humor me, Severus. We are getting nowhere right now with the visuals, so I'm willing to spend a few minutes to explore anything that might be made known through another of my senses."

He had relied so completely on the visuals he was getting that it took some effort to hone his listening and smelling skills, but after a few days, he thought he started to get something for his effort.

Harry reported the input from his other senses to his friends, given Severus' reaction to his efforts. At first, it wasn't much, but as his senses grew stronger and suggestions from the others helped him fine-tune his approach, he realized that there were scents and noises that provided clues when the world before him went dark.

One evening, a week or so after the quintet had begun meetings, Severus learned about the evening meetings. He had completed his daily paperwork, made his evening visit to the Slytherin common room and assured himself that all was under control, and spent some time on his personal brewing. He had come to a break point in his work, where he could safely put the potion in stasis and return to work on it another day, and realized that it was still early enough to enjoy a leisurely soak in the tub with Harry, and perhaps some other intimate activities. He was not pleased at all, therefore, to arrive in his rooms only to hear a loud discussion under way in his kitchen.

He stood still for a minute to identify the interlopers. Naturally, Miss Granger's strident tones were the loudest, and Weasley, no surprise there. He heard Draco Malfoy, as well. Not as much a surprise as it might have once been. And someone else – there was a voice that was not immediately clear to him. As he puzzled it out, a shocking comment from Draco provided the answer: "Good point, Neville. We do need to consider it from that angle."

Longbottom?

Severus was sufficiently motivated by curiosity at that point to make his presence known and join the group in the kitchen.

There were parchments suspended in the air around the room, each with a date noted at the top and some notes about Harry's visions. He recognized that much. Then each parchment had notes about what Harry apparently smelled or heard or otherwise felt as he tried to peer into the darkness that was a feature of each vision. Not much detail at first, it seemed, but the latest entries had a great deal of information, about temperature, ambient sounds and smells. The discussion that he had interrupted was about the likely location of what the group had determined was an encampment of some sort.

Harry smiled sheepishly at Severus when he entered. "We've been meeting to go over the visions, since I thought there had to be more to them, even if we were not able to see what was going on."

Severus smirked at that news. Typical Gryffindors. The most brilliant wizard of their day, and the many experienced witches and wizards with special skills who worked at the Ministry, had become suspicious that there was no value to these visions , so this little group makes it a project to delve even deeper into the black visions and see what no one else was able to see.

Harry smirked back, and went on. "It was Neville who initially suggested that I try to identify any smells or sounds, and while I still am not able to see much when the visions are shown to me, I have gotten better at noticing smells and sounds, and the temperature, things like that. We've worked out that I'm being shown camps, occupied by British wizards – they speak English – and some other creatures – more than one kind of creature, I think. No one is happy where they are, they are cold and uncomfortable, but seem to feel duty-bound to stay there. No trees around, they are out in the open, so it's very windy. Ample food supplies, it seems, as there is always something that smells good cooking over a fire. I think we know what I'm being shown, but we're still working on the where."

Neville took a big gulp and picked up the story. "Harry said he can hear a brook, but no waves or ocean. He can smell the earth, so there's some vegetation nearby, it's not barren rocks. Like he said, no trees, so it's not in a forest, but I'm not ruling out a large clearing." He nodded toward a large parchment on the table, rather than hovering around the room. "We're trying to pin down as much detail as we can about the geography and vegetation, so we can pinpoint a likely location."

Severus stared at the group. He was not so quick to give up his suspicion that this group was wasting its time delving into the impenetrable black visions, but between what Harry and Longbottom just said, it sounded like maybe, just maybe, they did find something. He conjured up another chair, and sat to listen in as they chatted on.

They had all seen the absence of visual input as a signal to look for other inputs, on the assumption that there had to be value in the visions. But as he listened to them review what they'd already discerned about the sounds and smells that Harry was able to capture, it occurred to him: perhaps the darkness itself was an input. All (but one) of them were Gryffindors, after all. They were poised for action. No visual? Move on – is there sound? Or smell? There was nothing wrong with looking for other inputs and they seem to have uncovered useful information, but they might have also missed something in simply pushing past the darkness as they did. Something to think about.

When the four others finally left, the evening was far less young than it had been, and Severus was far more tired than he'd been when he first returned to his rooms.

"What brought you back to our rooms so early, Severus?" Harry asked as he prepared for bed. "Not a problem with your brewing, I hope?"

"No, I reached a point when I could either put it in stasis and return later, or commit to several more hours of brewing before I reached the next such point. I was rather hoping that I'd find you here and amenable to a bath, or something like that," Severus replied, a bit unsure how his admission would be received.

Harry looked crestfallen at that news. He cast a quick Tempus charm; it really was rather late. But then he brightened. "If it's too late for a bath, we can still take a quick shower," he suggested.

Severus' face brightened at Harry's interest in some personal contact, although he still harbored some disappointment at not being able to relax in the warmth of the tub. As he soaped Harry's hair and massaged his scalp, Severus admitted to some admiration for the work of Harry and his friends.

"Hrmmph" Harry managed, lost in the bliss of the massage.

"We shall meet with the Headmaster and the Ministry representatives first thing tomorrow, I think. Invite the others to join us. The Ministry has people who should be able to sort through the sounds and smells you five have identified. Frankly, you took a more creative approach than they ever would, but now that you do have some information to work with, let's let them work with it."

Harry pivoted under Severus' hands to face him, a grin now on his face. "Creative, huh?" he asked, poking Severus (gently) in the ribs. "Praise for Gryffindors?"

"Well, of course, one of the group was a Slytherin," Severus replied, more for form than with any expectation that Draco had been the one to come up with this alternative approach.

Harry guessed that Severus would give Hermione sole credit for the insight. There was nothing wrong with that, of course, but the others had contributed. "Hermione was the one who suggested that we get together to go over the visions even when all I saw was darkness. Neville came up with the idea of looking for smells and sounds, but it's been a group effort all along. Everyone has different experiences, has been different places. It's been a group effort."

"And a good one. I think it will be interesting to see what the Ministry can come up with, if given a clear enough map to what might be learned. Now, enough about your little friends. " Severus pushed Harry back under the water, to get the shampoo out of his hair, before pulling him out of the shower and pursuing some of those intimate activities he'd hoped to get to hours ago.

The next morning, Severus arranged for a meeting with Albus, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and the others from the Ministry who had been tasked with evaluating Harry's visions. For his part, Harry alerted the other members of the group to join them in the Ministry annex as soon as they finished breakfast.

The Ministry workers were a bit hostile to the idea that these five school children thought they had found something, when they, with all their experience and expertise, thought nothing existed. Grudgingly, they had to admit, this was Potter. He'd done some remarkable things before. And Professor Dumbledore seemed suitably impressed with what they presented. Shacklebolt, as well, seemed to put great store in what the Longbottom boy described, in terms of vegetation and the likely area in which it might be found. Reluctantly, they took their own notes, and asked to make a copy of the notes the little group had created.

It was reasonably clear that the Hogwarts students were not abandoning this to the Ministry. They were just sharing the information that they had developed with the Ministry. There really was no hope that this was going to go away. If the Ministry simply ignored it, the chances were that this little group would persist and might even figure it out on their own. That would not look good for the careers of anyone at the Ministry who could have sorted it out faster. It was with the air of bureaucrats resigned to having to tackle a new and unwelcome project that the Ministry workers returned to their offices after an hour.

While Ron and Hermione had participated with Harry in assorted meetings with rather important people, Neville was new to this. Draco's exposure was minimal, but he was not going to admit that. Still, Harry collected the others in an alcove before they joined their classmates and reminded everyone that this was very confidential and could not be mentioned to anyone else. Neville simply nodded his acceptance. Draco had planned to tell his father, but under the blatant stares of the others, he had to acquiesce. Maybe later, there would be an opportunity to mention his role here, when it was over.

Severus lost his free period to the meeting, and felt he was playing catch-up all day. He was bothered by something, but couldn't put his finger on it, and he really did not like that sensation. He was cross and short-tempered (not that anyone could tell that anything was different about him today as he bullied his classes, of course). It came to him in his mid-afternoon class that he really wanted to get out of the castle this weekend. Well, that made sense. The place reeked. It was noisy. It was drafty and cold. Why would any sane person want to stay, if there was an option? There had to be options. A short break, maybe just Saturday evening to Sunday morning. It would do him a world of good. He'd speak to Harry – it was as likely he'd relish a short break, too. Harry remained very reluctant to go into Hogsmeade; Severus wasn't sure he'd gone back at all since the episode so long ago when he was attacked there by Death Eaters. He had to be as stir-crazy as Severus felt.

As Severus came to this conclusion about his upcoming weekend, he sent a particularly nasty glare at a sixth year Hufflepuff and had the reward of reducing the young woman to tears. His pleasure at that carried him happily through the rest of the day.

X

Harry was pleased (surprised, but pleased) when Severus broached the subject of getting out of the castle for a day over the weekend.

"We haven't been back to the Winter Lands since Christmas," he said with enthusiasm, "and I heard from Sirius that he's made some good progress on the hotel. We could visit the main compound, if Diana is up there, and then stop at Sirius', and then on to our own compound."

Severus frowned. "It's hideously cold here, and you propose that we go farther north?" He gave no voice to his inner horror at such a . . . social . . . outing. Typical Gryffindor – Harry wants to visit everyone he knows up there if he's in the neighborhood.

"Well, where would you suggest for a short trip?" Harry replied, not sure what alternatives were even available to them.

Severus had to admit – he hadn't actually considered destinations. It was not really an auspicious time to make their first trip to Snape Manor, as the wards still had to be tuned to Harry. And there weren't too many options close by that had sufficiently strong wards. Malfoy Manor was a non-starter for obvious reasons. While the Malfoy's pied-a-terre in Paris might be made available, and was too small for the hosts to join them, it might not be available. Ultimately, the last thing Severus wanted was to be in Lucius' debt. He could not think of anyone else he knew well enough to ask for the use of a home or vacation home, whose property would have sufficiently strong wards. There were any number of public houses or inns that have comfortable accommodations, and Severus had been to a few over the years, but the wards were never as strong as at private homes.

He ultimately just shrugged at Harry. This was, after all, about getting out of this castle rather than going to someplace with better weather.

"I don't have an alternative suggestion. That is perhaps the most appropriate destination, despite the weather."

Saturday right after lunch, Harry and Severus used a portkey to travel to Bifrost Hall compound in the Winter Lands. Diana Brand was ensconced in the relative warmth of her London home, but Alrik and Asgeir were pleased to welcome them to Bifrost Hall and brought them to the main hall of the castle, bustling even more than it had been over a year ago when Harry was first there. Sconces flamed against the walls, piercing the gloom of a winter mid-day. The tables were crowded and children played between and even under them. A slight hush fell over the tables as the four men passed, as whispers of recognition spread through the hall.

"Aye, this bitter cold weather," Asgeir offered in explanation for the crowded room, ignoring the reaction of his landsmen to the guests. "No one can be outside for too long, so we gather in the Hall. This is always the worst part of the year for us, February and March, but we have April to look forward to. At least the warriors are able to spend some time down at Hogwarts. That's a very sought-after posting."

He gestured to a table toward the front of the Hall. Harry thought it looked like either the Head Table at Hogwarts, or some sort of reserved space for the Brands and their guests, for it was a comfortable spot kept open in the crowded room. "Have a seat, Lords Potter and Snape, and some drink, and food if you are hungry. We can talk for a bit, before you head to your own home."

Harry and Severus accepted goblets of ale, and declined plates of food. Severus could not help but notice how flirtatious the young serving girls were, particularly fussing over Harry, and he rewarded them with a withering glare. Harry broke the awkward silence that settled in once the goblets and plates were in place. "We do appreciate that your men are guarding Hogwarts. Is that creating a problem here? Are they needed?"

Alrik shook his shaggy head. "Of course not, Harry! With the farms in for the winter, and the days so short, there isn't much for the men to do here. It's been a God-send this year to still be able to rotate our young men off to your castle, give them something to do, or to look forward to. Haven't had this low a rate of drunkenness or mischief-making up here in years, thanks to that."

Severus absorbed that. "You have no crafts or tool repair, or other things to occupy the families in the winter?" That struck him as very odd, given how long the winters were.

"Well, until last year," Alrik went on, "the winters were the main time that the dementors attacked. They were out there all the time, but it was always worse in the winter. We have all huddled together in the big keeps over winter for as long as everyone can remember. We did it again this year out of habit, I suppose, because thankfully, the dementors are not a factor now. But since so many people left their farms and compounds in November, we're in the habit of working hard as soon as we harvest to repair tools and such, as we don't expect to be back to the farms until April."

Severus looked at his brother-in-law with surprise. "I had no idea. Black's compound, the trading area, will change this? Do you plan to keep that open year-round, or just in the summer?"

Asgeir smiled. He saw a potential ally in Lord Snape. "I have spoken strongly for a year-round market. That is a big change from the way things have been here, and there is resistance." A glance at his son suggested the resistance started there. "In the beginning, the trade at the compound will largely involve our natural resources – farm produce, potions ingredients, ores, so at least some of our offerings have a seasonal aspect. But several of the families have been speaking about expanding their farms, adding livestock that will increase the sorts of cheeses, meats and maybe even woolen products we can produce."

Alrik took the bait. "I agree, we need to change this focus on everyone clustering like this in the large keeps. Not particularly healthy, and as I said, drunkenness and mischief have been a problem in the past. But I'm not sure, nor are many others, that it will be better if families now become slaves to commerce, having to stay on their farms all year. We build our community here, gathering for the winter." He glared at his father, and then looked glumly into his goblet. "Our raw materials might be valuable but I'm not so sure, after generations of isolation from the rest of the world, that we'd produce anything that would be appreciated or valued, anyway."

"You can't be serious!" Harry blurted. "People need something to do. If they are tending to livestock, starting small business operations on their farms, whether it's cheese-making, or meat-curing, or even making yarn from wool, it will give them purpose. And with all the attention to the Winter Lands lately, all the people who want to live here, for Merlin's sake, I'd think anything from the Winter Lands would be worth more!"

Severus had to agree with Harry. Merely labeling something as a product of the Winter Lands would enable it to command a premium. Potions ingredients had been that way for years. The novelty of anything else from here would assure a ready market.

And these fools were leaving their marketing to Black. Merlin help them.

His compound was the next stop on their visit. It was actually just visible from the upper towers of Bifrost Hall, through trees now empty of leaves, across a valley and a small river. Harry and Severus sought out the floo connection, declining the offer of brooms, given the cold weather.

Sirius was thrilled to see Harry, and somewhat resigned to the fact that Severus accompanied him. Fortunately, Remus had come north this weekend, so there was someone else present who would happily take on the role of peace-keeper, if necessary. After exchanging his usual snarl with Severus, Sirius folded Harry into a hug, planting a kiss on the top of his godson's head.

"Good to see you, Pronglet. I've missed you. But, I've been busy. We'll be open here by spring."

Remus greeted Severus with somewhat greater cordiality, but thought to ask the sensible question that had clearly eluded Sirius. "What brings you two north in the middle of the winter? And out of the wards at Hogwarts, with all that's going on?"

Severus nodded at Remus, pleased that someone had finally asked. "Given all that's going on, people have been clustering back in Hogwarts again. It's as full as it was over the summer. But with the cold weather, there is almost no venturing outside the castle. Frankly, the smell was starting to get to me."

Sirius snorted, and earned a glare from Harry (when had he mastered that very Potions-Master-like habit?). It just stopped him from making an impertinent observation about Severus' nose contributing to his overly-sensitive sense of smell.

"I proposed that we leave the castle for a day or two this weekend, and this was Harry's choice of location for our outing."

Remus looked very pleased at that answer. Severus was annoyed that he could not tell if the man was happy that they'd come for a visit, or that this was Harry's idea.

"Well, we have a few rooms that could be used here, if you need a place to stay," Sirius offered hopefully.

Harry quickly stepped in to correct that expectation. "Thanks, Sirius, but our compound is open and we'll be heading there. I just couldn't come up here and not stop in to see you."

That completely voided any anger in Sirius at the declined invitation, and he led the group off on a tour of the hotel. There were a few public areas that looked reasonably snug and comfortable, but Severus was taken aback at what could only be described as dormitories that seemed to be the sleeping quarters.

"Black, do you mean to tell me that this is what you are going to offer as overnight accommodations here?" Severus asked in what he felt was a neutral tone.

Apparently, Remus and Sirius had had a conversation about this themselves. Remus stepped in to carry the other side of the conversation with Severus.

"Well, this is the sort of accommodation that the Winter Lands people will be expecting. We visited several of the inns that operate in the larger compounds and visitor quarters all look like this. I gather that Alrik has urged Sirius to follow that pattern for his hotel."

Harry saw what was going on, and did not want all of this to fall on Severus' shoulders.

"Sirius, you really need to look at this compound as serving the needs of two groups of people. Yes, there will be lots of Winter Lands people who will want to stay over, and if the accommodations they are used to are dormitories like this, then you will want to have something to make them comfortable, of course." Sirius nodded his agreement.

"But there will be other visitors to the Winter Lands who will be staying here, right?" Harry went on. "They will be people like me, or Madam Bones from the Ministry." Harry had a vision of Mr. Malfoy in his mind, but wisely chose not to offer that example. "They are used to different accommodations. They will want private rooms. Many will expect suites, and I expect that some will resist shared bathrooms. You need to create an inn where they will feel comfortable, too."

Severus decided to explain something that apparently Sirius had not noticed, secretly very pleased that Harry apparently had. "Black, there are two different points of view among our Winter Lands allies. Asgeir Brand possibly remembers a very different world up here, and is anxious for there to be changes made that will enable this land to return to its remembered former glory. His son, and presumably a number of the younger men, do not remember anything different and are very suspicious of change. You will no doubt feel pressure from each faction. I think you should notice that it is the elders, the wiser men, who are encouraging change. Don't be swayed by the young ones who resist change, if you believe the change is going to be an improvement for the country."

Sirius faltered. That was a surprisingly civil statement from Snape, and he'd absolutely captured the pressures that had been put upon him over the past few months. He finally muttered, "There has been quite a bit of pressure to give visitors a real feeling of being in the Winter Lands."

"And you have the chance to do exactly that," Harry interjected. "What we are suggesting is just a small tweak to your plans for the market compound. By all means, create a real Winter Lands pub, or whatever they call the gathering halls. Serve at least some of the food from up here, and the drink. You might even offer the dormitories to visitors who want to try that. But recognize that there will be some who will expect certain creature comforts, and not be too adventurous. If they have business to do, or money to spend, in the Winter Lands, you want to make them feel welcome, too."

Remus joined the discussion with an observation. "Remember we had looked to recreate the great hall of Bifrost Hall, Sirius? Maybe that's the point at which the two types of accommodations meet? People can be comfortable up here, but they can experience some of the things that make the Winter Lands unique."

Sirius and Harry walked along to see the improvements and construction, and Severus cautiously followed along with Remus in tow. The wolf always had been the more . . . intelligent . . . . of the two, Severus thought, so while Sirius delivered a loud and expressive description of the things he was doing, Severus spoke quietly to Remus.

"This is a delicate political situation here, Lupin. But if Black does not prepare a true trading center for the Winter Lands in this compound, one that people will willingly visit, he dooms them to exploitation. This is their one chance to take their destiny into their own hands, and they must take it."

Remus looked at Severus with a look of amused surprise on his face. That statement was not particularly absurd, but coming from Severus Snape, it was laughable.

Actually, even Severus was surprised by what had just come out of his mouth. He quickly, if silently, attributed it to being in this most exceedingly Gryffindorish place, which was, no doubt, having some subtle impact on his mind. That must be it.

"Rather strong words there, Severus. But I see your point, and I happen to agree with you that it would at least be a terrible missed opportunity at least to not create a more cosmopolitan trading center. Sirius and I have discussed this before, but it seems that Alrik Brand always discourages him, as soon as I've gone back to London."

"I hope that Harry's encouragement, if not ours, will give him the backbone to stay with this direction," Severus agreed. "My sister might be able to help him create rooms that fit the Winter Lands look but meet the expectations of wizards with more traditional expectations. She might also know of some retailers that might want to take space here, if you at some point want to expand the market."

Remus was confused. "Why would we offer here things that could be gotten back home?"

"Cobblers to craft shoes and bags from skins purchased here? Tailors to make clothes from any fabrics that might be produced here? Maybe even a chef who cooks with only local ingredients?" Really, had these people no imagination whatsoever?

Within an hour, Severus and Harry were finally in front of their house, in the courtyard of their compound. While a significant amount of snow was accumulating out in the nearby fields, the charms in the compound enable them to stand on dry, if frozen, dirt. They had used side-along apparition, as Severus was comfortable apparating to a place he had been to only once before even if Harry was not so sure. Severus carried a large hamper pressed upon him by one of the women at Bifrost Hall, which seemed to be filled with enough food to feed an army for a week.

As they entered their house, Harry bounded into the kitchen with the hamper, and squealed in shock as he almost tripped over Dobby. "Harry Potter, I did not know when you and Professor Snape would arrive, but wanted your house to be ready. I can have your dinner ready whenever you want."

Harry was quite prepared to set a dinner time, and relieved that this was Dobby, who used their names, rather than some other house elf who used all the contrived titles for him and Severus, when Severus joined him in the kitchen.

Severus nodded at the little elf and agreed to dinner in two hours, when he stopped short. Something wasn't right. He surreptitiously slipped his wand into his hand. "How did you get in here," he asked the little creature silkily. "We have very extensive wards on this house, and they should just admit Harry and me."

Dobby smiled calmly at Severus, aware that the wizard now held his wand, but not worried. "Professor Snape, an elf is always being able to get right through wards. How else is we to take care of our houses and the wizards who live in them?"

Severus was nonplussed, but as he thought about it, he had to admit that did seem to be the case. House elves apparated into and all over Hogwarts, despite anti-apparition wards that kept out even the most powerful wizards. He knew that Dobby had apparated freely into and out of Malfoy Manor back when he belonged to the Malfoy family, and that manor had some of the strongest wards in England. Given the near-paranoia right now over security, how in Merlin's name did anyone not realize that house elves were utterly unaffected by wards and able to travel freely?

The answer to that, he realized, as he watched his bondmate carry on a conversation with the little elf about what they would be having for dinner, was that no one paid any attention to the little things. No one but Harry and Albus, that is. And now, maybe Severus.

Harry followed Severus into the lab, and through to the greenhouse, and watched as the older man inspected the plants and checked some of the cuttings given to him by Tante. "It does smell good in here, doesn't it?" Harry asked, taking a greedy breath. There was fresh air in here, brisk more than cold, and the smell, as improbably as it seemed this far north, of flowers.

"My stasis charms held – everything is fine. A few of the plants even seem to have managed to flower." Severus also took a deep breath and smiled at Harry. "How nice not to be assaulted by the rancid smells of an over-stuffed castle! This alone makes a wonderful vacation."

Severus puttered (Harry's word, not Severus') around in his greenhouse, moving a few cuttings into pots of their own, taking cuttings of some plants that he would bring back with him to Hogwarts, and selecting a handful of vials of various tinctures given him by Tante to bring back, as well. Harry sniffed at a few plants but lost interest rather quickly. He retreated back through the lab, which also held minimal attraction for him, and settled eventually in front of the roaring fire in the hall.

After dinner (Harry's favorite beef and Yorkshire pudding, Brussels sprouts, and a pudding), Severus joined him for a while on the sofa in front of the fire.

"Do you think Sirius is going to listen to us?" Harry asked. He'd been thinking about all the pride Sirius showed in the compound he was building, and hoping that the suggestions he and Severus had made were not going to upset him.

"His wolf told me that he had offered similar suggestions, but every time he returned to London, Alrik would get Sirius' ear, and convince him to return to the very rustic approach. I am hopeful that your input, as well as Lupin's, will keep him on the right path. I also suggested my sister might be an ally." Severus initially chose to omit any reference to the odd words that he found himself using when describing the consequences. It was likely the result of too much brandy that he eventually added, "I felt quite strongly myself that this is a crossroads for the Winter Lands, and failing to exploit this opportunity would wreak grievous havoc on this place for a long time to come."

Harry gave Severus a searching look. That did not sound like Severus, but there was nothing self-conscious about the way he said it. Another "insight"? Wouldn't that be interesting. And now that they realized that Severus' insights were to be taken at their word, it was even more important that Sirius make some changes in his plans for the market compound. They'd have to stay close to this project, to be sure Alrik did not derail it.

Finally, Harry allowed Severus to take his hand and lead him up to the bedroom above. Dobby had apparently been here as well, as a fire already burned brightly in the grate, and the room was surprisingly warm and cozy, despite a wild wind whipping snow past the windows. Even the tub was filled with steaming water, waiting for them.

They settled into the enveloping warmth, with Severus allowing Harry to float in the bubbles before him. Eventually, talk ceased and emotions took control. The lovemaking was slow and consuming, and both men were starting to wrinkle before they finally stood and began the arousing process of drying each other off before moving into the bed. The bed was easily as soft and comfortable as the water had been, with charms presumably warming the blankets. Sleep came quickly and easily for both.

Several hours later, Severus awoke with the need to use the bathroom. He found a small blanket at the foot of the bed, and wrapped it around himself to ward off the chill. On his way back to bed, he stopped at the window to see what the weather was doing. The wind was still strong, and likely bitterly cold, but the snow seemed to have stopped. From the upper windows of the house, he could see over the fence into the forest, and was puzzled to see some light a short distance off. He pulled his blanket/robe about him more closely, wondering if he and Harry enjoyed the degree of privacy that they thought they had here. He peered at the light, trying to gauge distance and possible source, so he could make a proper complaint to Asgeir Brand. He finally realized that was not man-made light – there were some magical forsythia plants growing some distance away. No doubt, some of the odd microclimates created by the thermal heat and the odd pockets of shelter in the craggy land enabled the plants to grow and even bloom at the oddest of times. He stood and marveled at the persistence of nature, to find a way to make light even on the darkest of days. Light and dark. Making darkness when there should be light.

A smile played across Severus' face as he realized what Harry's latest visions were suggesting.

Harry was still in the bathroom when Severus went down to the kitchen to see about breakfast. Apparently his words about privacy had been taken to heart by the little house elf, as there was no one there. A pot of tea was brewed and waiting for them, however, and the hamper he'd brought in from Bifrost Hall had been unpacked onto the large table. There were fixings for breakfast sandwiches, cheeses and some fruit. Severus served himself, and settled in with a potions journal. Likewise, when Harry bounded downstairs a few minutes later, he exclaimed happily over the choices on offer and prepared a plate for himself.

"It sounded like the wind kept up overnight. Have you looked outside – is it still snowing?" Harry asked.

"The snow did stop at some point last night, and it isn't snowing now. But the wind is still rather strong, and I expect it's still bitterly cold. I was thinking it might make better sense to take one of the portkeys directly from here back to Hogwarts later and not go back by way of Bifrost Hall," Severus ventured. While in transit with a portkey, they would be protected from the weather. Stopping at Bifrost Hall, even using portkeys to make the trip, yielded just another period of time spent in the bitter cold up here.

Harry nodded, and returned his attention to the extremely large bacon sandwich he had created for himself.

As lunchtime arrived, Harry left his perch in front of the fire, where he was finishing up a Transfiguration essay, to scout out what was available in the kitchen. Dobby was still gone, but he found more food in the cupboards, kept both cold and hot. Severus joined him from his lab, and they were just finishing up when Dobby popped into sight.

"Oh, sirs, Dobby is so glad to find you still here! Terrible things is happening, terrible!" The little elf worried his toga in his hands, and his big ears flopped in agitation. "Mr. Professor Dumbledore is very upset, very worried about you two. But I told him I could get to you, and bring you a message. The bad people have blown up the floo network back home. The Ministry has shut it down completely. Witches and wizards cannot travel. The Ministry also said that no one may use portkeys until they have been checked. Mr. Professor Dumbledore is very upset that you both are up here and now cannot travel back."

Severus had tensed up completely at the scant information that the elf had provided. The bad people – likely Death Eaters. Was this a plot, a precursor to an attack? Why had the ravens not foreshadowed this to Harry, or why had he not perceived this himself? Had they been shown or sensed something that they could not interpret? And how devastating was the sabotage? Is the system destroyed, or just disrupted? And why would someone do this on a Sunday afternoon, when in a few hours, on Monday morning, traffic in the floo network would be so much heavier?

Harry had apparently paid attention to the conversation about elf magic the day before (would surprises never cease) and thought to ask, "Dobby, how did you get here just now? Did you take a portkey from Hogwarts?"

Dobby looked at him worshipfully, always so pleased when Harry called him by name. "Oh, no sir, elfs has no need of portkeys, or floos. Elf magic lets us apparate wherever we needs to be. "

"Can you bring us back the same way you got here?" Severus asked.

Dobby looked surprised at the question, but shrugged. "Of course, sir. Elfs can bring wizards with them, although most elfs would never think to offer. I can bring you back to Hogwarts. Dobby will always be there for Harry Potter!"

After a quick trip through the house to be sure they were returning with everything that they brought and the few things Severus had wanted to bring back with him from the greenhouse, the two wizards stood in the kitchen of their Winter Lands house and Dobby took their hands. Each blinked for just a second, and when they opened their eyes, they were standing in their own rooms back at Hogwarts.

Severus was quick to suggest that they go up to the Headmaster's office immediately, to assure him of their safety and find out what was going on. Harry was thinking the same thing, and they looked uncertainly at the floo in their rooms.

"Until we understand what happened, leave that." Severus checked the wards he always kept on his floo, and verified that they had not been breached, and added a few extra just in case, as he joined Harry for a hurried walk through the castle.

[A/N: Thanks to those of you who have been kind enough to leave a comment or review as you've read. I really do appreciate each one. Several people have asked me how much longer this story is going to be. I'm not entirely certain, but figure maybe four or five more chapters. I'm nearly there. I know there has been a real slow-down in getting chapters up. Real life threw me a curveball, and I'm just trying to get myself together; I'm hopeful that with the end of the story in sight, the words will flow faster now.

Apropos of all the trebuchets and siege engines in this story, I thought I'd mention a show on the Science Channel here in the US – Punkin Chunkin. It's about a competition in which people use all sorts of homemade trebuchets and hurling devices (referred to as "pumpkin machines") to throw pumpkins, rather than rocks or boulders, as far as possible. There is a competition to see who gets the pumpkins the farthest. Happy Halloween to you all!]


	64. Ch 141 The Third Wave Forms

Chapter 141 –The Third Wave Forms

Albus was visibly concerned when Harry and Severus entered his office a few minutes later. Harry and Severus had walked quickly through the castle, and were surprised at the lack of panic among those they passed. As they rode the spiral stairs up to the Headmaster's office, they wondered if people did not know yet what had happened.

"How did you boys return from the Winter Lands? We are not to use any portkeys until the current situation was better understood. I thought your house elf was bringing you that word. Did he miss you?" Albus asked, as he stood from behind his massive desk and hurried to greet them.

"Dobby arrived as we were finishing lunch and just preparing to return. He informed us it was unwise to use the portkey, so we asked him to apparate us back. That's how he got up there to tell us," Harry explained. "And he was able to bring us back the same way."

Albus looked surprised, but it passed quickly as he shooed the others to chairs and joined them by the fire.

"Albus, as we walked here, we could not help but notice the lack of distress among those residing here. This event is not widely known?" Severus asked.

Albus scratched his beard idly as he stared at the fire. "Hogwarts has warded floo connections and no one in the castle was using the floo today, so we did not directly experience the event, but we received an urgent owl advising us to close all our floos down until this got sorted. The floo network is held together by an elaborate array of sigils, and they just went . . . I don't know the words to describe it. About an hour ago, people who entered the floo did not appear at their destinations. There was initial terrible fear that they were killed, or died in the malfunction. The last owl brought word that the floo addresses were jumbled, so people were exiting in the wrong grates, not killed or injured, just lost. Four children on their way home after visits with grandparents ended up in a particularly unsavory establishment in Knockturn Alley, and two members of the Chudley Cannons headed to a team meeting ended up in Arabella Figg's drawing room, things like that. The Ministry's arithmancers are all hard at work. They have to recalibrate the addresses and reconnect all floos back to the reconstituted network, and that will take time. Because we have so many Ministry workers here for the weekend with their families, our floos were a priority – one reconnection will enable nearly 100 people to report to work tomorrow. Our floos are already fully functional. The ban on the use of port keys was precautionary, but it has not yet been lifted."

While Severus was relieved to hear that this was not the devastating event it might have been, he wanted to know what had been done and by whom.

"Ah, Severus, that we do not know. Amelia's last owl indicated the problem was confined to the English floo network; we were worried it was world-wide, like the sleeping spell. She has a team of aurors working with some of the arithmancers and the Department that manages the floo network, to see if they can determine how this was done. Getting the floo network reconnected is all well and good. But if there is a point at which it can be disabled and that is not addressed, it can be brought down again."

Harry was aware that press coverage of the recent attacks on Ministry workers and their families had really ratcheted up the panic level (or, more accurately, Hermione was aware of this from the articles she'd read, and Harry and others had learned about this as a consequence of an argument she had with Draco about that panic level). "What will the press make of this," he wondered.

His question earned him a nod from Severus, and a rather sad look from Albus. ''Unfortunately, I do believe that several reporters and the staff photographer from the Daily Prophet entered the floo while the problem existed. One reporter was still missing, as of the last owl from the Ministry."

Severus and Harry both looked concerned by that statement. This was going to be bad. "I understand that the missing reporter is Miss Rita Skeeter," Albus added glumly.

"One aspect of this that really bothered me, Headmaster, was the fact that the ravens never mentioned this. They visited me today, probably just before this happened, and nothing even hinted at this. We went over that vision several times with great care; there was no whiff of this." While Harry and Severus had also discussed the fact that Severus had no perceptions or awareness of this either, no one looked to Severus for insights and Harry felt it was Severus' call to share that or not.

Albus looked very thoughtful at that news. "Most curious, Harry. No hint at all?"

Severus suddenly sat up a bit straighter. Thoughts had been circling around in his head, and with a start he had realized that perhaps he had an explanation, if not an answer, after all. "Harry, Albus, I've been thinking on something Harry told me, apparently a statement made by Miss Granger." Both men perked up at that news, curious as to what might this might be.

"She is said to have concluded that since these ravens were Odin's familiars, if they are sharing something, we must assume they do so for a purpose. Therefore, Harry's visions from them have meaning, even if it is not readily clear to us." Severus looked at Harry for confirmation, and Harry nodded; that was a good summation of her thinking that led to the group meeting to review the visions in the evenings.

"What the ravens share has importance, and perhaps, then, this most recent event, unheralded as it was by the ravens, might not be significant to the big picture, to the battle we know is coming."

Albus leaned back in his chair, reacting to Severus' statement rather than agreeing with it. "An act of sabotage that creates so much disruption, is so distracting and demoralizing to the wizarding population, not part of the plan?" It was clear that he was quite unconvinced.

Harry, on the other hand, was looking thoughtful.

"Headmaster, we began those extensive debriefs of my recent visions because there was nothing immediately obvious about the current situation in them. We knew there were attacks and raids going on from the news reports, but the ravens chose to focus, every day, on an encampment of some sort. This could well be more of the same, because the ravens brought me more scenes from the encampment probably just as this was unfolding."

Albus nodded benignly, but the lingering skepticism in his face made it clear to both Harry and Severus that he remained doubtful about the current visions.

X

Of course, no one at Hogwarts knew it, but Harry and Severus were correct. The sabotage of the floo network was not part of Voldemort's grand scheme.

A rambunctious younger member of the LeStrange family had travelled by floo to Knockturn Alley earlier that day, and had gotten into an argument with the proprietor of the inn whose floo connection he had used. Rather than settle the matter with the proprietor directly, the young man directed a series of vicious spells into the floo connection that was at the heart of their dispute. He'd actually intended to destroy the fireplace and sever the local floo connection there, wanting to inconvenience the man with whom he quarreled, and hopefully also hurt his business. Had the floo remained inactive, that would indeed have been the outcome, but the floo flared to life just as the spells hit it. The wizard attempting to enter the inn was bounced away, and the spells ran wild through the English floo system for several long minutes before finally dissipating. Those minutes were enough to wreak havoc on the floo network, however.

The young man had stormed from the inn after casting his spells, and was disappointed to learn that the floos at all the other establishments in Knockturn Alley, as well as places in neighboring areas, were all down. He finally apparated back to his home, and later joined his father and two older brothers in taking a port key to Riddle Manor.

As the assembled Death Eaters awaited the arrival of their Lord in the dining room that now served as their meeting room, there was much discussion about the difficulties with the floo that day. While the youngest LeStrange boy had a story of his own about not being able to find a floo to use to return from Knockturn Alley earlier that day, it never occurred to him that the spells he had cast were behind the trouble.

At last Lord Voldemort joined his minions.

"Welcome, my friends," he began, nothing in his voice expressing actual welcome or any expression of friendship. "I am glad you all were able to get here, given the problems our Ministry seems to be having today with its floo network." There were snickers around the table at that, but the meeting moved ahead.

"We have gathered a most impressive army of supporters up north, and will be joining them ourselves the day after tomorrow, to make the final preparations for our final assault on Harry Potter and the Light. This problem with the floo should be resolved by tonight, according to the latest Ministry release, so I trust that will not impede our plans. If we need to use portkeys, we will secure and distribute them tomorrow. You have all been assigned to tents in the various camps; I need lieutenants in each camp to keep an eye on things and assure that all our efforts are coordinated when I determine that it is time to strike."

There were some nervous glances around the table at that. The camps were cold and drafty, a poor substitute for their warm houses. There was also the matter that some of their Lord's supporters were a bit off-putting, to put it mildly. He had succeeded in recruiting a number of dark creatures, but those were not the sort of creatures with which his core group of Death Eaters wanted to actually associate.

As if reading their minds (although actually just looking at their nervous faces), Voldemort added, "Only my most reliable lieutenants can be trusted with assignments in the camps; I realize those assignments will be more difficult and uncomfortable, but trust I have chosen you well." This group loved a compliment, even a patently insincere one.

As he nodded to dismiss his minions, he added, "I just hope this disruption to the floo network is resolved quickly, lest it impede any of our progress in this grand mission."

X

Earlier that day, Lucius Malfoy had received an owl from Rufus, the barman in the small inn he favored for his extremely private assignations, bearing a cryptic note. "The gent wishes to speak with you this evening at 8."

He had to think for a minute, but realized the "gent" in question would have to be the rough character Mallory had directed to him. Instinctively, he checked his schedule to see if there were other plans that would have to be rearranged to accommodate this meeting. That was not really necessary. As Narcissa's pregnancy had advanced, their social calendar had been greatly curtailed and it was now a rare evening that they had plans. Given that all the information the man had shared the last time had checked out through his other sources, he would treat this meeting as a priority.

The mess with the floos gave him pause as the hour of the meeting drew closer. Most commercial floos had been reconnected to the network by the end of the workday, and while he had been able to have his house floo restored, too, his personal floo was a complication. No one actually knew about that one. It had cost Lucius a goodly pile of gold to have that extra connection made with no one the wiser. He was fully prepared to spend the money again for the convenience and privacy of such a connection, but such . . . delicate . . . work took time, and was simply not possible when all the Ministry wanks were fussing so with the network. He eventually decided to leave from home after an early supper with Narcissa, departing for a "business meeting" and heading to a public floo not too far from his solicitor's office. He could easily apparate from there to the inn, rather than brave the cold.

Lucius settled into his regular table in the inn's dining room about 7:30, and Rufus quickly brought over his preferred whiskey. Right at eight, the informant strode into the inn, again in his workmens' robes. He spotted Lucius immediately in the nearly deserted inn, and sauntered right over to his table, taking the chair opposite with a gruff "Good to see you again, Guv." Rufus had watched the arrival, and appeared moments later with a tumbler of whiskey for him, and the man took a deep drink as Rufus departed back to the bar.

"I'm glad that you came by this ev'nin', Guv. Been seeing some interesting things going on at Eastbrook this past month or so. Odd stuff. I thought it might be of interest."

Lucius ventured, "More weapons?"

The man chuckled and gulped down more whiskey, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Nah, Guv. Weapons are always being bought and sold, nothing like that. Other things – supplies is how I'd describe this lot. We sell this sort of stuff regular, nothing odd about it being bought. But not in the middle of winter. And not all going to storage barns within a two-mile area up north."

Lucius nodded, careful as always to give nothing of his interest away in his facial expression. Once again, he was aware of the folly of judging a book by its cover; this man was not the bumpkin he appeared. Spotting the weapons shipments as he did before could have been the sign of a sharp mind, or it could have been a lucky coincidence. That the man now saw a pattern in other purchases now suggested he was smarter than he looked. But Lucius wasn't sure what value there might be in tracking the sales of "supplies."

He leaned in to speak softly. "I might be interested." He slid a 100 galleon coin across to the man, commenting, "The same terms as before apply to this conversation. I appreciate your bringing this to my attention, but until I have a better understanding of what "supplies" you are talking about, I can only offer this good-faith payment."

His guest covered the coin with his calloused hand and slid it into his lap, slipping it into his pocket. With a gap-toothed grin, he allowed, "Fair enough."

The man leaned in and described the shipments of supplies he'd observed. Mostly, these consisted of hundreds of tents with extensive and some unique Wizard Space charms, as well as massive amounts of cooking supplies.

Lucius had a hand in arranging the Quidditch World Cup several years ago, and the quantities involved here seemed similar to the sorts of orders the Ministry of Magic was placing then. But there was no World Cup going on now, in Britain or elsewhere, and certainly no one would have any sort of event that relied so heavily on tents in this awful weather. He allowed a puzzled expression onto his face.

"Most curious, indeed. I'm sure if there was a Quidditch World Cup under way somewhere, we'd know about it, as these quantities seem similar to the supplies brought in for that. Nothing to suggest what this is for?"

His guest chucked. "Aye, if I knows that, the price is lots higher, Guv, i'nt it? No, I just noticed the orders coming through, out of season, if you know what I mean, and wanting immediate delivery, all of them. And all heading north, to Scotland, of all places. I don't know what, but somethin's up."

Lucius placed another large gold coin on the table, which quickly joined his prior offering in the man's pocket. "Another coin will join this if you can provide the location to which the shipments were sent."

A big grin now appeared on his guest's face. "Make it two coins, and I'll give you all the locations."

Lucius put the additional coins on the table, but blocked his guest's move to grab them. "Locations first, my good man. You see the money, and it's yours once you provide the information."

Again from his surprising memory, the man recited several addresses clustered in a remote, northerly part of Scotland. As he reached to claim his two coins, he added "A pleasure doin' business with you, Guv."

Lucius nodded absently, pondering the information he'd just been given. "If further information comes to your attention, Rufus can arrange a meeting as he did this time." He sat in the inn for a while, savoring the whiskey and waiting to be sure his guest had gone. He finally settled his bill and compensated Rufus for his role in setting up the meeting, before apparating back to the public floo by which he arrived in Diagon Alley.

Lucius was tempted to have this information verified as he did the last information provided by the man, but he kept focusing on the basic innocuous nature of the goods in question. Camping supplies. He pondered this on his way home, and decided it would foster the new relationship he was trying to create at the Ministry to drop in on Amelia in the morning and get her take on it. She was once an Auror, after all, and might see something in this. If it warranted the extra time to verify it, he had his sources to handle that.

The frostiness of Amelia's initial greeting when he swept into her office the next morning melted immediately when he described the information he'd come upon. Amelia herself had just spent an hour with the Ministry team tasked with identifying the location of the camp that the Hogwarts students thought was being described by the ravens to Mr. Potter. They were not making any progress – they were bickering among themselves, debating the students' interpretation of the information, arguing about minute details. Several members of the group clearly wanted to focus on the floo network debacle of the prior day as the more immediate threat, and had no interest at all in this project. They seemed to be doing everything but working through the clues provided to identify a manageable number of possible locations to check. While Lucius was qualifying his input up, down and sideways, he did indicate it came from the man who had been accurate in what he shared regarding the weapons stockpiling. She had not told him about the project to look for the site depicted in Mr. Potter's visions; it was possible that Draco had told him something, but it was just as likely the two hadn't spoken. Shipments of camping supplies, and the special Wizard Space charms, fit right into the scenario being investigated.

"Lucius, it was very wise of you to share this right away," she reassured him, "and not take the time to have it verified. You said the man was spot on the last time, and I'm willing to do some checking right away with our resources. We do suspect that forces are assembling in the north, and it is possible, perhaps even likely, that your information connects with activity for which we are already looking. These locations will enable us to focus quickly."

Lucius hoped to get some further details about these suspicions, and he prolonged the visit to see if he could wheedle any information from the Minister, but Amelia cagily held her tongue after that. With assurances that he would be pleased to pass along any other interesting tidbits that came his way, he finally left the Minister's office in defeat. He consoled himself with the thought that the quality and value of the information to which he alone had access was becoming known, the best way to cement his position going forward.

For her part, Amelia immediately summoned Auror Darmut and the leader of the Ministry team back to her office. "Gentlemen, I have gotten some information about massive shipments of what appear to be camping supplies to certain locations in Scotland. They are clustered within a two-mile radius, which ought to limit your search substantially. Does the Ministry team have any possible locations identified in the area of the shipments?"

A nervous-looking wizard with a bald head consulted a sheaf of parchments, and finally extracted one. "We do have one site in that area that someone thought was a "possible", but as we worked through more information, we dismissed it."

Amelia shook her head in frustration. "Well, Mr. Eccles, it appears that we now have new information that suggests it might be the most likely spot. Auror Darmut, assign your best to check out that site, as well as the area around it. Find out what is going on up there, and report back to me immediately."

X

The one good thing about the mess with the floo network was that the Aurors were free to pursue information about activities up in Scotland with no attention from the press.

The Daily Prophet featured blaring headlines and numerous articles (many by-lined by Rita Skeeter) about the sudden crash of the floo network and the ensuing panic as floo travelers found themselves in all manner of unexpected places. The Ministry insisted that the Prophet run an article (which it did, on page 22) that described exactly what had occurred: no one was harmed, just misdirected to the wrong floo, all were now safely at their intended destinations, and the floo network was once again fully and properly operating. However, the Prophet ran all manner of first-hand accounts full of drama and outrage on the first 21 pages of the issue about the crash. The Minister quietly encouraged her public relations staff to keep the focus on the crash of the floo network for a couple of days. It was a good diversion.

Hermione read the Daily Prophet over breakfast, chuckling into her oatmeal. Harry had told her and Ron the evening before what had gone wrong with the floo network, and that Severus now agreed (to the point of quoting her to the Headmaster!) with her position that the ravens were communicating for a purpose. She agreed with the Professor's interpretation that the fact that the ravens had said nothing about the presumed attack on the floo network suggested that this was not part of any plan, just an isolated event. The Prophet was getting people all worked up for nothing.

Unnoticed by anyone connected to the Daily Prophet was the departure of a large group of senior Aurors from their Ministry offices, all heading to Scotland. Small teams travelled by different routes, just in case anyone noticed, all eventually arriving at a designated Ministry-owned safe-house just a few miles from the area the Minister had directed them to check. Back in London, the team that had been working on the information provided by Harry's ravens had redoubled their efforts to find any spots in that area that might offer space for a camp of some sort and also have features that matched the clues Harry had gotten. While the team members who had dismissed this area before remained unpersuaded, the others were finally able to identify six remote farms that might accommodate all the known facts. The last arrival up in Scotland was the leader of the team, bearing the maps that pinpointed the likely locations of camps in this area.

It was bitter cold, and the Aurors were not happy to learn that their surveillance would have to be done by broom, at night. Even with warming charms, this was not going to be comfortable. As soon as night fell, groups of three Aurors each departed from the field behind the Ministry property to their assigned field. Even though they would be obscured by clouds and able to blend into the forests and uneven terrain, they still employed their best obscuration charms, and kept silent.

Those were all wise precautions, because all but one team returned with news of something significant going on in the field upon which they spied from the air. Even in the gloomy night, it was clear that at least five large meadows were now home to large encampments. The Aurors kept their distance and were careful to stay down-wind, as they surveyed the areas from the shelter of trees or rocks on the perimeters. There was one camp that seemed to be filled with giants, not surprising that they would be segregated from anyone else, given their notoriously aggressive natures. There were wizards in most of the other camps, but they were not alone. There were all manner of dark creatures in the various camps. The most awful sight reported was of a large pile of what appeared to be corpses, in the center of one of the camps. No doubt, these were Inferi awaiting the charms to mobilize them in the service of their masters.

Amelia was relieved, the following morning, to be able to offer up some actual information for a change, although this was certainly disquieting information. The team at the Ministry immediately dissolved itself so each member could go back to their usual work, largely relieved that at least the annoying people at Hogwarts hadn't solved this one. Amelia was bitterly disappointed in their lack of progress, but had to agree that each team member contributed more individually than they had working together.

Her visit to Hogwarts to update Professors Dumbledore and Snape, and Mr. Potter, had a similarly odd outcome. At least, this group was clearly pleased to learn that locations had been pin-pointed, but she was not really ready for the question posed immediately by the potions professor: were there house elves serving the wizards in their camps? She sputtered a bit at the apparently nonsensical question, but finally admitted she had no idea and would ask the teams in the north to check that for her. Albus had the castle expand the Ministry Annex and invited the Minister to make use of it for whatever activities needed to occur closer to the area where it appeared things would begin happening soon, so she went off to spend some time with Kingsley Shacklebolt, briefing him and preparing space to accommodate the Ministry workers who needed to be in Scotland.

And all signs began to point to the fact that something would be happening, soon.

Harry's visions that day ignored the camps, and showed him, for the first time, a battle. It was a vicious battle, and at least some of it was playing out on the lawn in front of Hogwarts. There appeared to be several dozen Death Eaters battling Aurors and members of the Order of the Phoenix with wands and swords, and beyond the wards, there was a tremendous bombardment directed at the castle using all sorts of siege engines. There were wizards among the attackers, but many of the attackers weren't human – there were giants, dementors, Inferi and all manner of creatures aligned with the Dark.

When the vision was over, Harry stood wobbly, panting and sweaty from the scenes he'd seen and then relived in minute detail under Severus' careful questioning. Severus enfolded his bondmate in a hug, holding the smaller man close, and willing some of his own strength to fortify Harry. Gradually, Harry calmed, and reached his own arms around Severus' middle, holding on as if for dear life.

"Oh, my God, that's it, isn't it?" Harry whispered into the wool of Severus' jacket. "But the duels were on the lawn, inside the wards. How . . .?"

Severus placed a calming hand on the back of Harry's neck, and took a steadying breath himself. That was exactly the image that had made the greatest impact on him, as well. How did Death Eaters get behind the wards?

"I think we need to discuss this with the Headmaster immediately, Harry. That was a significant change from prior visions, no doubt signaling important developments. I am also quite certain that this battle will occur within the week."

Harry leaned back and looked up sharply that that news. "Within the week?" he breathed. "So soon? How do you know?"

Severus wasn't too sure of that, himself. He shrugged, a look of discomfort on his face.

"Did Madam Bunswill teach you how to access your new magic? Were you able to do that?" Harry wanted to know.

"She did describe some techniques that I might employ to develop and refine the magic, but with all that has been going on, I have not truly focused on that. She did say that there would be some insights that were so powerful that they would express themselves even without any effort on my part. I am certain this battle is imminent."

Harry tucked his head back under Severus' chin, and held on as if for dear life. Severus, for his part, allowed them to stand in that manner until he was confident that Harry had regained his composure.

Albus was surprised when a house elf summoned him back to his office just as he was finishing up his lunch. And he was even more surprised to find Severus and Harry awaiting his arrival with very tense expressions on their faces.

"Sir, today's visit from the ravens was really different from what they've shown me other times. It was of battles raging here at Hogwarts. Death Eaters battling on the lawn of the castle, massive bombardment of the castle from just beyond," Harry began.

Severus immediately added, "And this appears to be imminent. I expect this will occur within the week."

Albus sat heavily at his desk, pointing his guests to chairs opposite.

"So, Harry, your ravens have begun showing something different from the camps. This attack – are you quite certain it was Hogwarts?" he began.

Severus' face clouded with impatience, but Harry politely nodded. "Yes, sir. Severus was with me, and we went through landmarks and such very carefully. The battle with the Death Eaters was on the front lawn of the castle, right past the front doors. Inside the wards. And there were massive stones, things on fire, launched from the siege engines on the land outside the wards, closer to Hogsmeade."

"And how do you know the timing, may I ask," Albus asked.

"Um, well, I don't really get a strong sense of actual timing," Harry began, only to be cut off by Severus.

"Headmaster, I knew as soon as Harry began his description of these events that they would occur within a week."

Albus leaned back in his chair. "I will have to alert the Minister, of course. She is aware of Mr. Potter's visions. Do you want me to mention your input, Severus?"

"Tell her this is imminent, of course, there is no time to waste. I doubt that attributing this insight to me would carry any weight with the Minister, or the Ministry; it might be a distraction." Albus nodded in agreement, and Severus smiled ruefully. "But if you can persuade them of the lack of time before this occurs by Mr. Potter's own sense of imminence, do so."

Harry wished he could stay longer, but lunch was long over and classes were about to resume. Reluctantly, he excused himself to get to his Charms class, sure Severus would discuss the issues of concern to them, as he did not have a class immediately after lunch. With a nod, and meaningful look directed to Severus, he left while his bondmate lingered for a moment.

Severus did not waste any time getting to his concern, but stated it clearly as soon as the door closed behind Harry. "Albus, both Harry and I specifically noticed that the vision showed Death Eaters fighting us within the castle wards. Your thoughts?"

Albus leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "I'm afraid that there are ways, even for those most unwelcome here, to get behind the wards, especially if they have a confederate within the walls to assist them. There is no way to assure that no one here will not provide that assistance. I hope you saw just a small number of Death Eaters, and not the entire army?" he asked.

Severus thought on that, and offered, "No, Harry was very clear that it was not more than a dozen Death Eaters battling near the castle. But surely the wards themselves will hold?"

Albus looked sad. "The Hogwarts wards are indeed powerful and strongly rooted to the stones and earth here, so I would not expect they will easily be pried loose, or brought down. I am relieved to learn that you saw just a few Death Eaters within the wards; that suggests they did not swarm through collapsed wards. But if there is a concerted attack, especially with combinations of magics, it might be possible to create small gaps or holes in the wards. I would not expect that there would be massive holes through which large number could press in, but it is possible that there could be some infiltration if there is an attack."

Harry and Severus returned to their rooms right after dinner that evening, Harry anxious to know what the Headmaster said about Death Eaters fighting within the wards.

"So, what the the Headmaster think about the fighting inside the wards?" Harry burst out as soon as the door closed behind them.

"To my chagrin, Harry, he did indicate that it would be possible for some small number of unwelcome guests to get behind the wards, especially if someone inside is assisting them. Small disruptions can also occur at the wards themselves, around the perimeter of the castle's land. What you saw in your vision did not involve a complete breach, with a flood of combatants, so I assume we can repair or hold the wards that surround the castle as the battle continues."

Harry shivered. He hated the idea of fighting so close to those who had huddled into Hogwarts for the safety they assumed it represented. "I don't think people have any idea that Death Eaters can get into the castle. I cannot imagine the panic when they see that."

Severus had no answer to that. He held Harry in a comforting hug for a moment, to be sure Harry was not going to become distraught at the image of terrified people in the castle. Sometimes, Harry allowed the images of those he could not help to overcome him, but Severus succeeded in averting that. With a deep breath, Severus finally stepped back.

"I have some work I must attend to this evening, and I assume you have your friends stopping by." Severus allowed a small smile to play across his mouth. Let the world go to hell in a handbasket – his bondmate was still one of the most beautiful creatures put on this earth, and he would remind the young man just how cherished he was. "I will see you later."

Shortly after Severus swept from their rooms, Hermione, Ron, Draco and Neville arrived and crowded into the kitchen. Harry briefed them on the latest vision, sharing what he'd been told about the wards. He was relieved to discover that it was as big a shock to the others, especially the wizard-raised, that the wards were not unbreachable.

While Hermione made her notes, because that's what she does, the group abandoned the use of parchments hung around the room. This new vision did not seem to be one out of which lots of small details needed to be teased, although there were questions.

Hermione asked a number of questions about the Death Eaters fighting inside the walls, keen to see if there were clues there about who might have allowed them in. Draco immediately bristled at what he thought was the insinuation that someone in his House did it. To avert an argument, Harry pointed out that there were many ways to enter Hogwarts, including a floo connection back to the Ministry. Even if all the other floos were disabled, the Ministry would keep its connection open to facilitate its role in the defense. Ron reminded them that portkeys could also enable some people to get into the castle.

Neville looked pensive and asked about the efforts to bring down the wards at the perimeter, and the efforts to damage or destroy the walls around the fences. Harry did his best to revisit that part of the vision again, prompted by Neville and eventually the others. When it appeared that Harry had exhausted all the details that he could recall, he posed a question of his own.

"But Dumbledore didn't think what I described suggested that anyone got through those breaches. He thought, if the Death Eaters were able to pull down the wards, they'd've swarmed in, but there were just a few inside. So the wards out there held, and the walls didn't appear to be damaged. Why the interest?"

Neville bobbed his head. "Nitrocris wants to come here, and help defend the castle. Her magical strength, the case for most witches and wizards in Egypt, is all about preservation. She can help keep the castle and the walls secure."

Harry's initial thought was to decline the offer; the last thing he wanted was for anyone else to be put in jeopardy because of his fight with Voldemort. But the look in Neville's eyes made him pause. Before he could make up his mind what he wanted to say to that, Neville stood to leave. "Gotta get a letter out tonight."

Ron watched his friend leave, and then asked into the silence, "So, this is it, then?"

Draco swallowed at the realization, but Hermione got a very steely glint in her eye. "We'll be ready," she reassured the others.

Neville stopped at the Gryffindor tower to pen his note and get a cloak for the walk to the Owlery, only to discover that there was no need to send a note: Nitrocris was settled into the Common Room already. She brightened noticeably when Neville entered, much to Seamus' dismay.

After a chaste kiss on the cheek for Neville, she said softly, "I felt in my heart that I needed to be here, now, to assist Harry Potter. I assume I may reside once again in the dormitory here?"

Neville gallantly agreed to speak to Professor McGonnagal to have the girls' dormitory enlarged to include her, and they quietly spoke in the corner for a while, as Neville brought her up to date on the current developments.

When Severus returned to his and Harry's rooms a few hours later, he had a steely glint in his eyes that reminded Harry of Hermione.

"Is everything alright, Severus? You've been gone a long time," Harry began as the man shook out his snow-encrusted cloak.

As Severus poured himself a brandy and took a seat by the fire, he answered. "Yes, actually. I went with your house elf friend, Dobby, up to the Winter Lands, for a chat with Tante."

Severus smiled at the look of confusion that appeared on Harry's face in response to that statement.

"We are going to ensure that the camps in Scotland experience the darkness that your visions reported. Tante knew of a dozen or so magical forsythia in the forest near her that are in protected areas and currently in bloom right. She and Dobby are harvesting them now, and he is going to plant them around the camps that the Ministry found – apparently, the house elves already knew where the camps were. He'll get them planted near the tents and cast a slight warming charm on them. We know the forsythia don't respond well to being moved, and will likely die within a day or two, but the warming charms will enable them to last that long. And then, there will be darkness in the camps."

"Brilliant!" Harry enthused. "Dobby thinks he can do that?"

"No one pays attention to house elves – you recall that even Albus seemed surprised that we apparated home with Dobby last weekend. There are house elves working in the tents that have been placed in all but one of the camps, and it is safe to assume that no one would recognize that the elf planting something in the camp wasn't one of the elves serving in a tent. Among themselves, Dobby is confident that none of the elves would object to him doing this, or think to report it to a wizard. His magic should enable him to get the plants moved to their new locations within a very short period of time."

"He'll be reporting in when he's done?" Harry asked, as he joined Severus and sat on the couch next to his fireside chair.

"I would expect that. So, what transpired here this evening?"

Harry shared the outcome of the small group's conversation.

"The young Pharaoh? Well, yes, I would imagine Egyptian magic would involve preservation. How else would the pyramids and Sphynx have lasted all those thousands of years? Very gracious of her."

Severus was about half-way through his brandy when Dobby popped into view. He looked nervous, and was worrying his tunic in his hands.

"Ah Sirs, Dobby is glad to see you both! Dobby got the pretty yellow flower plants from kind, wise Mrs. Tante, and has put them in each of the camps. As you instructed, Sir, Dobby tries to plant them spread through each camp. In one camp, though, the elf in charge of the big tent insisted that they be placed next to the entrance to the tent. He moved them when Dobby planted them, and threatened Dobby with grievous harm when Dobby tried to move them back. Dobby can return, if Sirs wish, and move the plants."

Severus could make a good guess as to who was going to be staying in the tent in question; Voldemort's house elves would realize that their Lord would want any adornments or decoration placed by his tent, for him to enjoy, and he'd be sure to notice this. It was even possible that the Dark Lord would want the plants moved inside the tent so he alone could enjoy the glowing blooms.

"Dobby, you did well to permit the other elf to position them as he felt appropriate, and to report back to us. Thank you for your assistance."

"Oh, Sirs can always count on Dobby! He will always be there for Harry Potter and for Harry Potter's Beloved Bondmate! Such kind and gracious wizards . . ."

The glare that appeared on Severus' face encouraged the little elf to apparate out before completing that thought.

Harry seemed not to understand the placement issue.

"I had asked your elf to place plants around the different camps, not clustered in one place. I felt that the panic and distress the sudden darkness would bring would be amplified that way. I suspect that it was Voldemort's elf who realized his lord would insist that ornamentation be placed near his tent, and not for general enjoyment. Not optimal, but not worth incurring any suspicion at this point."

Severus put his now-empty glass down on the hearth, and stood, reaching out to pull Harry to his feet.

"The chill from the Winter Lands has gotten into my bones, and was not eased by the brandy. I think a soak in a nice warm tub is in order."

Harry did not need to be asked twice. His nerves were on end; Ron's observation earlier had weighed on him. Something big was going to happen, and happen soon.

The two wizards enjoyed their soak, Severus warming up and Harry calming down. As he soaped Harry's hair, Severus noticed the tension in his bondmate's shoulders, and gently probed to ease it.

"The water is losing its heat, and we should get to bed," he observed, summoning fluffy towels as he stood and enveloped Harry in one.

Their love-making that night was tender and caring, Severus seeking to give Harry a brief respite from the worry and care of the impending battle. He knew the time was drawing near, and was not sure of what tomorrow would bring. He wanted the young man reassured now of the feelings his bondmate had for him.

X

Harry was pleased to see Nitrocris at the Gryffindor table the next day, although the way she had piled on several sweaters suggested she was not used to the exceptionally cold weather in England. And she was not the only new face in the crowd that morning.

Sirius and Remus had come to Hogwarts the night before, Sirius insisting he felt he needed to be there for Harry, and Remus only too happy to accommodate that. As the day progressed, several other witches and wizards felt compelled, for reasons they could not really define, to travel north to Hogwarts. Several students commented at the eclectic assortment of visitors, many of whom did not have children attending the school, and thus no current connection to Hogwarts. A few (besides Nitrocris) did not even hail from England.

Hermione was remarking about this at lunch, just as Neville had noted that his grandmother had sent him an owl to tell him that she was negotiating a short leave from her Auror assignment to the Queen's detail and would be at Hogwarts the next morning. Draco seemed equally unenthusiastic to report that he'd heard from his father that he would be at Hogwarts the next morning, as well. Harry caught sight of Nicolas Flamel and Mr. Olivander sitting together at the Head Table, and he realized that he knew the common thread among all these unexpected guests.

He'd met them all at the Calling.

He just hoped that similar numbers of very powerful witches and wizards were not at this moment arriving at Voldemort's camps farther north.

As guests were arriving at Hogwarts, the Dark creatures massing at the camps in isolated parts of Scotland were joined by those Death Eaters who remained loyal to Voldemort, even after the removal of the Dark Marks no longer enabled Voldemort to command their attention or milk their power. As Augusta Longbottom and Lucius Malfoy joined those gathering at Hogwarts, Lord Voldemort finally left the comforts of Riddle Manor for the large tent in the main camp. The crowds in the camps had swelled, as a strong sense of anticipation built, awaiting the arrival of their Lord, and a last, final assault on the Light.

His arrival signaled that the assault was soon to begin.

[A/N: My apologies for the long hiatus. As I mentioned to a few of you who checked in on me via PM, I live in an area that was hard hit by Superstorm Sandy. I had no power at all for two weeks and then had to deal with the time-consuming things that always follow a destructive flood in your home. Life was only getting back to semi-normal as Christmas arrived. I was thinking of where my story was going all the while, but I was not able to sit down and actually write it out until more recently.

There are a few more chapters to go. The battle is coming up, and then there will be at least two post-battle chapters. We're getting there, and I am so happy to have so many of you still with me on my journey. I've been bad about acknowledging your comments, but I really, really do appreciate everyone who takes a moment to offer one.

Finally, I've had a few comments asking if I would please include m-preg in this story. While I am not always entirely true to Josephine Darcy's vision, I did scour her story and author's notes before beginning this and have tried to honor the parameters of the world she created for this extended story. She was adamant that there was no m-preg in her world, and I am taking that path as well. She described another path for Harry and Severus to have a child, and that's the one they will use.

Belated best wishes to all for a happy 2013, and my sincere thanks to you for reading along.]


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